


Surrender

by ThePornFairy



Series: Surrender [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Breathplay, Consensual Non-Consent, Corporal Punishment, Daddy Kink, Dean is not a masochist, Desperation Play, Dom Castiel (Supernatural), Dom Drop, Domestic Discipline, Enemas, Humiliation, Impact Play, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Overstimulation, Power Exchange, Sadist Castiel, Sub Dean, Subdrop, Watersports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-16
Updated: 2019-02-03
Packaged: 2019-10-11 07:58:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 26
Words: 47,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17442980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThePornFairy/pseuds/ThePornFairy
Summary: “What I wanted today,” Cas says icily, “was to come home to my good boy. Order food, watch a movie together on the couch, maybe have him suck my cock to the credits. Did I get that, Dean?”Dean shuffles a little, then shakes his head. “No.”“No, what?” Cas voice is sharp, and the leather of the armchair squeaks under his fingers.“No, Daddy,” Dean mutters, blushing even harder. Why, oh why did Cas insist on that title?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Everyone in this fic is a consenting adult.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !! BEWARE THE TAGS !!
> 
> See end notes of this chapter for an explanation on the CNC tag.

It’s been a long day when Dean finally makes it home, covered in the dirt and grime that construction work brings with it. He heads straight for the shower, stripping of his clothes as he goes, and groans loudly when the water finally hits his back. Washing off the dust and sunscreen is one of the best parts of his day, and he stands under the showerhead for a long time, shampooing his hair thoroughly.

Sliding slick, soapy hands over his arms and chest, he rubs at some of the soreness in his muscles before following the soapy trail down, fingers rubbing softly against his pubic hair. He’s not supposed to touch, but washing off has always been okay. He runs his hand over his cock, which is fattening up. It feels really good, so he rubs it a little more, making sure he’s clean, until his thumb slides over the slit. He groans when the pleasure shoots through him, leaning back against the tiles, gently fucking his hand.

The curtain ripping aside makes him yelp and let go of himself.

“Hmh,” is all Cas says, eyes narrowed.

“I was just washing!” Dean says, then looks down at the floor. “Uh, I wasn’t, I --”

“Shh. Don’t let me interrupt,” Cas says, and dammit, that’s the eyebrow. “Carry on, Dean.”

Dean’s face must show his confusion, because Cas reaches in, turns the tap off, then leans back against the cabinet opposite to the tub, crossing his feet at the ankles.

“You take care of that,” Cas says, nodding down towards where Dean’s cock hasn’t softened in the slightest. “I’ll watch.”

Shivering in the cool air, Dean hesitantly wraps his hand around his cock and strokes, looking up at Cas for confirmation. Cas only makes a _get on with it_ gesture with his hand, and Dean strokes again. All the soap has washed away, and his hand is slightly too rough against his cock, but he doesn’t dare object. Cas’s face is entirely impassive, as he continues to look at Dean. It takes a few false starts before Dean manages to lose himself to the feeling of it. His cock is entirely uncaring about Cas’s displeasure, it delights in Dean being wet and exposed, probably pathetic looking as he shivers against cold tile and fucks his hand. Heat gathers low in his belly and he’s gasping, trying to keep his groans down, staring Cas straight into his eyes as the first contraction of orgasm shudders throu--

“Let go,” Cas says, voice hard and loud.

Dean lets go, fists his hand next to his hip and stares helplessly down at his cock where it pulses, come drooling out of him while the crest of orgasm disappears in the distance. He shivers harder, knees weak, heat and frustration still pooling inside him.

Cas hands him a towel.

“Dry off.”

He does, quickly rubbing off the water and finishing by wiping away the come, the terry cloth rough against his still hard cock.

“Come on,” Cas says and walks out.

Naked, Dean scampers after him, unable to look away from Cas’s broad shoulders in his dark blue suit. The house is bordering on cold, since they’ve lowered the heating as the days have gotten longer and warmer. Cas leads him into the living room, stepping right on the line of Dean’s dirty clothes that litter the floor. Dean’s cheeks burn with shame as Cas settles into an armchair and looks up at him.

“What I wanted today,” Cas says icily, “was to come home to my good boy. Order food, watch a movie together on the couch, maybe have him suck my cock to the credits. Did I get that, Dean?”

Dean shuffles a little, then shakes his head. “No.”

“No, _what_?” Cas voice is sharp, and the leather of the armchair squeaks under his fingers.

“No, Daddy,” Dean mutters, blushing even harder. Why, oh why did Cas insist on that title?

“No, I did not. I got home to find dirty clothes all over our floors, but I thought maybe you’d had a really bad day, maybe you needed to get them off real fast for some reason. So I came to find you, didn’t I?”

Dean nods.

“And what did I find you doing, boy?”

“Showering,” Dean says, even as some part of him screams at him to confess.

“Showering.” Cas doesn’t sound impressed. “Is that all?”

“Iwasjerkingoff,” Dean mutters to the floor.

“I can’t hear you.”

“I was jerking off,” Dean says clearly, then tacks on, “Daddy.”

“Jerking off,” Cas muses. “What’s the rule about that?”

“I’m not allowed to,” Dean says, and dammit, those are tears prickling his eyes.

“Come here,” Cas gestures to the space between his spread legs, and Dean carefully walks over. “So the rule is that you’re not allowed to touch this -” Cas flicks his finger against Dean’s cock and Dean whimpers at the pain. His stupid cock is still rock hard. “Did that rule change?”

“No,” Dean whispers and then keens and rises to his toes as Cas grabs his balls in a tight grip. “No, Daddy, no! It didn’t change, Daddy, please!”

“So it didn’t change, and you did it anyway,” Cas muses, and releases his grip just enough for Dean to sink back onto his heels, gasping. “Let me tell you what that tells me. That tells me I have a naughty boy, a boy who’s forgotten who’s in charge around here. That tells me I have a boy who knows the rules, and decided to go against them anyway. Do you know what I do with naughty, rebellious boys, Dean?”

“You punish them,” Dean whispers, and okay, yeah, now the tears are running down his cheeks.

“I punish them,” Cas confirms. “Because what they need is clearly a reminder of just who’s boss.”  
  
“Sir, please,” Dean whimpers, “I know you’re in charge, I swear, it was a mistake, I’ll pick the clothes up now, I swear!”

That makes Cas pause long enough that Dean starts to think he’s gotten away with it, that he’ll be able to talk himself out of this mess. Sometimes he can.

Cas releases him, and Dean shudders through a sob.

“Yes, you will. You’ll bring me each item of clothing, one at a time, and tell me exactly why it’s on the floor and what you’re going to do with it.”

“Yes, Daddy,” Dean says quickly, wiping his cheeks, then scurries for the first piece of clothing.

“Not that one,” Cas says. “Start with the one you took off first - and Dean?”

“Yes, Daddy?” Dean turns from where he was just about to leave the room.

“Don’t think this is getting you out of your punishment. It’s been so long since your last one, I think you need a good reminder of your place in this relationship.”

Dean manages a nod before he bolts for the front door, where he picks up his jacket, folds it over his arm and returns to the living room.

“My jacket,” Dean says, eyes to the floor. “I was so warm, I just needed to get it off. I’ll hang it by the door.”

“You do that,” Cas replies, watching him intently.

So it goes, for each item of clothing. When Dean finally brings both socks from the bathroom, Cas makes Dean return to put one sock back on the floor, before individually telling him the reason for them.

“Good,” Cas says. “Now, go to the bedroom.”

Dean scampers, rushing to the bedroom where he kneels on the bed, ass up, face pressed to the sheets. He’s still embarrassingly hard, the tip of his cock rubbing against his stomach and sending sparks through him. He rocks his hips slightly.

A cough from the door makes him freeze, his heart pounding rapidly in his throat.

“Getting off on this, are you?” Cas says. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of that.”

The closet opens and then items thump down on the bed. Dean doesn’t dare look, doesn’t move. Cas strokes a hand over his bottom and Dean holds his breath.

“Not a single bruise. Well. I’ll fix that too.” Cas pats this ass with a leather paddle.

The first smack is sudden and Dean yelps, doesn’t have time to flinch before the leather paddle moves from his left buttcheek to his right one, then taps a rhythm of fast, hard smacks down past his sit spots and to his thighs. This isn’t a warm up, there’s nothing nice about this. As much as Dean isn’t a masochist, Cas sure is a sadist, and in no time at all, Dean’s ass feels like it’s on fire and he’s trembling from trying to stay in position. His cock hangs small and soft between his legs, as he gasps for air against the covers.

There’s a slight pause, then cold wood touches flaming skin.

“Please, sir,” Dean whimpers. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

“I know you are.” Cas says, then the paddle comes down and Dean keens.

He can’t keep position with the wood paddle. It’s hard and heavy and it rocks him forward with every smack. Left, right, sitspot, sitspot. Cas goes slower, but hits harder, and it’s not long before tears sting Dean’s eyes, and not long after that that he’s kicking his feet, sobbing into the comforter. He’s on fire, and everything is pain, and he’s sorry, he’s so sorry. He distantly realises he’s babbling, screaming out his apologies as Cas keeps going.

“Lie down,” Cas says.

Dean recognises the tone even as he slumps forward, pulling a pillow close, his face wet and snot clogging his nose. There’s no doubt in his mind that Cas’s hard. Cas’s belt buckle clinks, and Dean’s half-expecting to have Cas push slick fingers inside him, but instead Cas taps the belt against Dean’s thighs.

Dean shakes his head. “No, no, Daddy, please, no more,” he begs.

Cas doesn’t even answer as he aims. The belt tears into Dean’s sit spots, crossing where the wood paddle must have bruised him, then moves down. He thrashes and kicks, screaming into his pillow. He’s fighting now, fighting to keep away from the belt, unable to stop the pain. Eventually, he runs out of steam, sobbing into his pillow.

Cas puts the belt down.

“Kneel on the floor,” he says and Dean moves without thinking, flinging himself to the floor and keening from his ass meeting his heels. He stares up at Cas, blurry through his tears, towering in front of him and Dean belongs here, on the floor, hurting and naked and nose clogged and Cas’s, all of him Cas’s.

Cas has his cock in his hand, and Dean opens his mouth, but Cas just stares at him, fucking his fist and Dean shuffles closer, crosses his wrists behind his back and whines, begging to be used. Instead, Cas grunts as he comes into his own cupped hand and fresh tears flow freely down Dean’s cheeks.

“You haven’t earned my cock. Close your mouth,” Cas says roughly, still panting.

Dean snaps his mouth closed and then closes his eyes too, because Cas reaches out and smears his come all over Dean’s face, rubs it in, then grabs Dean’s neck and drags him kneewalking over to the corner of the bedroom.

“Do not move until it’s dried,” Cas growls in his ear, then spins around and leaves.

Dean’s face itches, his butt and thighs throb with pain, and he fights not to cry more as he leans his forehead against the wallpaper. Crying will only mean more time spent in the corner. It’s hard though, because the room feels empty behind him and Dean feels so small, so worthless.

Cas checks on him twice, but it’s not until Dean’s knees are sore and his feet have long since gone numb, that he’s allowed to crawl out of there. A wet cloth wipes the dried come off his face, and then Cas pulls him up on the bed, and manhandles him into a hug.

The tears come back then, and Dean clings desperately to Cas as he cries, muttering more apologies into Cas’s shirt. Cas shushes him, tells him he knows, holds him close and strokes his hair, until finally, at long last, Dean’s worn himself out. Then there’s a water glass against his lips, and he drinks gratefully.

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” he says, one last time.

“I know, sweetheart,” Cas murmurs and kisses his forehead. “You’ve been stressed, working hard, and we hadn’t had a chance to really be together, and you needed to feel me. Did I get that right?”

“Yes, Daddy,” Dean says, embarrassed.

“Alright.”

They cuddle for a while longer, then Cas prompts him over to his stomach and sets about looking at the bruises.

“You’ll be purple for quite a while,” he says, tracing welts.

“I can feel that,” Dean grouches. “Ow.” Cas digs in a finger into a bruise and Dean jerks. “No, no, no ‘tude, I swear.”

“Hm, you better not,” Cas replies, voice deep, stroking over the inflamed skin.

Dean presses his ass up, tilts his hip, then looks back at Cas’s startled face. Cas frowns slightly, but Dean pushes back against his hand.

“You can,” he says in a small voice. “If you want to.”

The pain might do nothing for him, but he knows how Cas gets off on it, knows just watching the bruises blossom to life is making Cas hard. Knows Cas likes him writhing and crying in pain as he fucks him, and as much as Dean doesn’t like the pain, he loves giving Cas what he wants, even when it hurts. It’s part of their relationship, and maybe Dean’s fucked up in some way, but he craves it, craves that feeling of peace that comes with being squashed beneath Cas’s heel and held firmly in place.

“I won’t be nice,” Cas warns him.

“Don’t be,” Dean sighs as he stretches against the bed. “Don’t want nice.”

There’s a drawer opening, a snick from the cap of the lube bottle, and then two cold fingers are mercilessly pushing into Dean’s ass. He groans and pushes back, trying to adjust, but they pull out and return with more lube, twist and disappear again. When three fingers return with even more lube, Dean spreads his legs and whimpers. Cas finger fucks him by punching his fingers in, fist hard against Dean’s bruised and sore ass, and  fresh tears spring into his eyes.

“Daddy,” Dean whimpers, cheeks flushing at the word as usual.

Cas’s other hand grabs his balls and squeezes until Dean squeals and trembles, then fondle his soft cock for a minute, before Cas taps his back. Dean sinks down onto the bed, and keens when Cas settles across his thighs. He hears the cap of the lube bottle again, then cold lube drips against his hole, before Cas presses his cock against it.

True to his promise, Cas doesn’t go slow, he doesn’t go nice. He forces his way in, making Dean scream against the bed, fingers scrabbling uselessly as he fights to not move, not flinch. As soon as Cas is in, he’s pounding in, hips smacking hard against Dean’s bruised ass. It takes no time at all before Dean’s sobbing, heaving against the sheets, Cas’s hand on his neck pressing him down as he fucks him ruthlessly.

There’s nothing about this that’s about Dean’s pleasure. Cas takes and takes and takes, and Dean lets him. Eventually, even with his body screaming at him and tears running down his cheeks, something inside him shakes loose and then his tears are from relief and gratitude, rather than the pain.

When Cas comes, he grabs Dean’s hair and pulls it, lifting his head up even as he digs the fingers of his other hand straight into Dean’s bruises. Dean screams, struggling, but Cas’s holds on tightly as he presses even further in and shouts his release.

Dean lays there shivering, while Cas wipes him down again, gathers him close and turns the lights off. They can nap before dinner, Dean thinks, as shudders continue to wreck through him. It’s okay. Cas’s got him. Later, Dean will grump about the state of his ass and Cas will feed him spring rolls and stare adoringly at him, and if he’s really lucky, Cas will fuck him again tomorrow morning so that Dean can feel himself leaking all day at work.

Everything is right in the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone in this fic is a consenting adult. Consensual non-consent is a thing. Things will appear as dub-con and non-con because the characters want it that way, even if it's not explicitly stated every time. Whenever possible, I've used safe practices and made sure that safety has been considered, _even when Dean, as the POV character, doesn't know or chooses to ignore it._
> 
> As you were.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BEWARE: Tags have changed (humiliation tag added!) - if you want an explanation, go to the end notes.

At first, Cas had been so hesitant. Neither of them had been all that new to kink, but Cas had always seen himself as more of a service dominant.

“But, what if I hurt you for real?” he'd whispered into Dean's hair one night. “What if I'm too much?”

“I want you to hurt me,” Dean had said, lips against Cas's collarbone. “I'll safeword if it's too much, I promise, but Cas… I don't want nice. I've had nice. I don't mean you gotta be cruel all the time, but yeah, I want you to pin me down and hurt me until I cry, I want you to force be to do things, say things,” he can't help the way his cheeks redden at that. ”I hate it… But I _love_ hating it, Cas. If that makes me fucked up, then fine, I'll be fucked up, but can't I be fucked up and safe about it?”

It's a far cry from now, when Cas is comfortable with what they do, as likely to kiss Dean as he is to backhand him, as likely to whisper love as he is abuse. Case in point when Dean comes in from throwing away the garbage and finds himself shoved into the wall.

“What the _fuck_ do you think you're doing?” Cas hisses into his ear, fingers tight around Dean's throat.

Fear pounds through Dean as his fingers scrabble uselessly against Cas's hand, already on his toes, the wall cold behind him. This is how they start, he could back out here, but instead he whines.

“Nothing, nothing, I swear!”

“Then why are you dressed?” Cas's hand digs in as Dean swallows. “Did I say you could wear clothes today?”

“No,” Dean whimpers, tries to shake his head.

“Yet, here you are, wearing clothes. What a disappointment. Do you like disappointing me, Dean?”

Despite there never having been a clothes rule, Dean's eyes water and his cheeks flame with shame.

“I'll take them off,” he manages, forcing his hands to his belt.

Cas yanks him from the wall and thrusts him away, making Dean trip over his ankle and crash to the kitchen floor. The tiles are unforgiving against his knees, his hip bangs against the cupboards as he slides back.

“Well,” Cas sneers at him. “Take them off. Hurry up, or I'll be cutting them off you.”

Hands shaking, Dean goes for his shirt first, hoping bare skin will appease Cas.

“Come on,” Cas taunts him, foot poking Dean's ribs. “All of it.”

He gets his belt open, gets his pants and boxers down to his knees, wriggles against the floor as Cas kicks him in the ribs, hard enough to make Dean curl up. The foot comes down on his back, presses him down flat against the cold floor.

“Take them off,” Cas jeers above him, even as his heel digs in between Dean's shoulder blades.

Dean twists desperately, tears in his eyes, manages to kick his pants the rest of the way off, then reaches for his socks, pulling his legs up. Cas's foot moves down, presses against his lower back, makes it even harder. Dean's dick mashes against the tiles and he's suddenly aware of how embarrassingly hard he is.

Finally managing to get his socks off, Cas kneels and grabs his hair, pushing his face into the floor.

“Took you long enough,” he mutters. “Spread your cheeks for me, boy. Show me what you're made for.”

Tears run down his cheeks, makes the tile wet against his face as he sobs and reaches back, and grabs his ass, spreads them apart. Cas releases his hair, moves away and stands.

“Look at you. Crying on my floor, head down, ass up. This is all you're good for, isn't it, boy?"

“Yes,” Dean hiccups, humiliation tearing another sob from him.

Cas sighs. “How many times -”

“Yes, Daddy,” Dean chokes out, then repeats loudly. “Yes, Daddy! This is all I'm good for, Daddy.”

Cas hums. “I think you're forgetting your manners. Today, all I want to hear from you is _Yes, Daddy_ and _Thank you, Daddy_. Clear?”

“Yes, Daddy,” Dean sobs.

“Good. Now, lick the floor clean, you've slobbered all over it.”

Turning his head, not daring to let go of his cheeks, Dean licks at where his tears has wet the floor. It's hard, when he's still crying.

“Pathetic,” Cas mutters, then a shoe nudges in under Dean's chin. “Get this clean too.”

It tastes gross, of leather and dust and shoe polish, but Dean licks it dutifully, his knees aching, abs on fire, fingers cramping where they're keeping his ass spread. He cleans one shoe, mouth drying on the dust, then leans his forehead against it, seeking benediction, redemption, a moment of kindness.

“There you go,” Cas murmurs. “This is where you belong, isn't it? Below me, so far below me you can't even see to the top?”

“Yes, Daddy,” Dean says, choking on his gratitude. “Thank you, Daddy.”

The awful, terrible truth is that Cas is right. This is where he feels at peace, this is where he feels the most loved. He hates it, hates that he loves this, needs this, is so, so grateful to Cas for seeing him and understanding him.

“Couch,” Cas decides, then spins on his heel and walks out.

Snivelling, Dean crawls after him, sees Cas settled on the couch with his legs spread. Cas snaps his fingers and points at the empty space between his legs.

“My cock is cold, you should do something about that.”

“Yes, Daddy,” Dean says, reaches for Cas’s belt.

His head snaps to the side when Cas backhands him, and he cries out as the pain blossoms across his cheek.

“Did I say you could use your hands?” Cas grabs his hair in a tight fist, twists it as he pulls Dean’s head back and makes him look up. “Do you even want my cock?”

“I-, I-” Dean chokes out, then sees Cas’s eyes narrow. “Yes, Daddy.”

“Hm.” Cas unbuckles his own belt, pulls out his cock and shows it to Dean. “Look, I had to do it myself. Does that make you happy, hm? Do I have to warm it myself too, or are you going to be a good boy?"

“Yes, Daddy,” Dean says, hunching in on himself in shame.

Cas stares at him for a moment, as if contemplating Dean’s worth and Dean shuffles closer, opens his mouth, tries begging with his eyes. Cas sighs.

“Fine, whatever. Get on with it,” he says, and flicks the TV on.

Dean shuffles that last inch or so, knees against the edge of the couch, and gently slides Cas’s cock between his lips and into his mouth, resting the tips on his tongue. Cas tastes musky, a day’s sweat and a hint of urine, but Dean closes his eyes and leans his cheek on Cas’s leg. Cas pretty much ignores his existence, choosing to reach for his Kindle and settles to read whatever it is he reads on there.

It doesn’t take long before Dean’s feet fall asleep and the pain makes him wriggle a little, shifting on his knees. He can’t tell if that makes it better or worse, but he gets a warning hand on the back of his neck and settles… for a while. He would doze, but kneeling and leaning forward for this long is difficult, and soon he wriggles a little again. The hand on his neck moves over to his ear and pinches it hard, making him jerk and yelp around Cas’s cock, which is now definitely taking note of the proceedings.

“Stay. Still.” Cas hisses out. “Don’t you know what a good cockwarmer does? They don’t move, do they? They stay still and don’t get the cock hard.”

Dean’s mouth is so full of saliva and he swallows awkwardly around Cas’s cock, trying not to jostle it, but Cas groans at the movement of his tongue, his hips making a shallow thrust up into Dean’s mouth. Then Cas twists his ear cruelly, and Dean tries to pull away while Cas drags him forward.

“You’re too hungry for cock to be a good cockwarmer,” Cas mutters. “Such a disgrace, can’t even do something so simple right.”

Dean whimpers at that, and presses closer, nose against Cas’s pubic hair. Cas’s cock is just big enough now to prod at the back of his throat and he gags slightly.

“What’s that? You made my cock hard and now you can’t take it?”

His lashes wet, Dean looks up at Cas, trying to show his desperation as he draws one shaky breath after another. Cas sighs, irritated, then jerks Dean forward by his ears.

“If you’re going to suck it, at least do it right, God,” he says. “Come on, choke yourself on my cock. Show me what a greedy, selfish boy you are.”

Dean does, lurching forward, shoving his nose deeper into the hair at the base of Cas’s cock. He can feel the tip shoving past the back of his throat and he gags, pulls back, licks apologetically over the fat head before shoving himself down again. It chokes him, air going neither up nor down, and he tries swallowing. Blood pounds in his ears as he looks up and sees Cas’s head thrown back, feels his hips thrust up to meet Dean’s mouth. Arousal rushes through him, his own cock hardening from where it had gone soft while he held Cas in his mouth. Another breath, and he goes down again, gags, stays down there.

“Finally _something_ you’re good at,” Cas groans. “Oh fuck, your mouth. Should whore you out, ah, that’d make you happy wouldn’t it? We’d make rent so fast, God. That’s it. Swallow around me now.”

Dean swallows and feels Cas’s hand on his face. He has just enough time to draw half a breath before Cas clamps his fingers around Dean’s snotty nose. There’s no air, and he fights for it, pulling back even as Cas’s other hand fists into his hair. Cas’s thighs wrap around his head and there’s nowhere for him to go but further down the cock in his mouth. Tears well up in his eyes as his panic grows, but just as the room starts to fade, Cas lets him up again.

He coughs and gags, draws a desperate breath, and then he’s forced down again. Cas fucks his mouth, moves Dean’s head as though he’s a toy, and Dean fights to stay conscious, feeling the the tension gathering in Cas’s thighs. If he’s just good a little bit longer, Cas will come, he thinks deliriously, manages to gather another half-breath and drives himself as far down on Cas’s cock as he can. The weight at the back of his throat is delicious, too much and not enough, and he swallows around Cas repeatedly. Cas stiffens and then he’s coming, fingers pulling hard at Dean’s hair as he shudders through his release.

As he pulls out, Dean gathers all the come he can get onto his tongue.

“Show me,” Cas says roughly, still panting.

Dean opens his mouth and shows him the pool of come.

“Swallow,” Cas says, and Dean does. “There’s a good boy. What do you say?”

“Thank you, Daddy,” Dean says, and holy crap, his voice is shot to all hell now.

One of Cas’s feet prod between Dean’s legs and find his hard cock.

“What’s that, hmm?” Cas says, tucking himself away. “Did you get hard from sucking me off?”

Dean can’t meet his eyes, stares at the white shirt. “Yes, Daddy.”

“Huh. I guess I can’t whore you out then,” Cas says, frowning. “It won’t do to have you get off on other people’s cocks.” He grabs Dean’s chin hard, forces him to look up. “You’re such a filthy boy, getting hard as soon as there’s a good cock in your mouth, aren’t you? You’d love it if I whored you out, getting all that cock, all of the come?”

Dean’s eyes water yet again and he tries shaking his head, because he’s not allowed to object.

“What’s that? You wouldn’t get hard?” Cas scrutinises him. “I don’t believe that for a moment. Filthy boys like you just love knowing their place. Thankfully, I’m quite capable of keeping you in line, and as long as you please me, I’ll keep you around. You better be grateful for that.”

“Thank you, Daddy,” Dean whispers. “Thank you.”

Cas stands abruptly and Dean scrambles backwards. His legs are on fire as he straightens them, his knees chafed from the living room carpet and bruised from the kitchen.

“Bedroom. I feel like sucking your cock today.”

On feet that are half-numb, half-pins and needles, Dean stumbles towards the bedroom, collapsing on the bed as soon as he gets there. Cas gestures for him to scoot up it and lean against the pillows, and Dean does. His heart is beating hard, because this isn’t something they usually do. Outside of this, Cas will blow him and give him torturously long, slow handjobs, but during playtime, he never touches Dean’s cock unless it’s for more pain.

He’s trembling as Cas spreads his legs and lays down between them. The first touch is a shock to Dean’s entire system and he pants as he stares at where Cas has licked a stripe up Dean’s cock.

“It’s such a pretty one,” Cas muses, breath damp against Dean’s sensitive skin. “Maybe I should play with it more often.”

Then there’s liquid heat around Dean’s cock as Cas swallows him whole. Dean groans, head thrown back, and fights to stay still. Even as Cas sucks him just right, he tries to hold back. One of Cas’s hands come up and play gently with his balls and Dean can’t stop shaking.  The pleasure is hot-white as it tears through him, makes him keen and whimper, and then he’s at the edge and tumbling over it before he can warn Cas.

As soon as the first spurt leaves his cock and hit’s Cas’s mouth, there’s pain and he tries to clamp his legs shut but Cas won’t let him, his thumb digging hard into Dean’s sack, pinching and twisting. He stares down in shock as Cas sucks him through his orgasm, ruins it with the pain, then pulls off and spits on the sheets.

“Did I say you could come?” Cas asks, spitting again.

Dean shakes his head and now he’s terrified. Cas’s hands are on his thighs, pushing them wide apart, his thumbs digging into Dean’s muscles.

“I wanted,” Cas says, “to suck cock. Your cock. At no point did I say you could come. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, Daddy,” Dean says, barely able to breathe from pure fear.

“Now, I’m going to suck your cock anway, and it’s going to hurt, but the only one you’ve got to blame is yourself, do you understand that?”

“Yes, Daddy.” It comes out as a whimper, since Cas has already descended on his cock. It’s good, but he’s sensitive and going soft, and Cas doesn’t care, keeps sucking and licking at him, rubbing his stubble all over Dean’s cock.

It doesn’t take long until Dean’s thrashing, trying to get away from Cas’s mouth.

“Daddy, Daddy, Daddy,” he chants desperately.

“Shhh,” Cas says, but he moves down and mouths at Dean’s balls, pops them in and out of his mouth with just enough teeth to make Dean whimper. Cas’s thumbs dig into his thighs, pinpricks of pain as Dean fights to close them, fights to keep them open.

It goes on forever, Cas alternating between licking Dean’s balls, suckling at the tip of his cock, rubbing his stubbled chin against Dean’s frenulum until it feels like it’s on fire. Dean’s openly crying, staring at the ceiling and just trying to survive it, by the time Cas stops.

Cas crawls over the bed, and Dean lies there, legs spread as far as they will go, tremors wrecking through him while the nightstand drawer opens and closes. Then Cas is back, which is equal parts wonderful and terrible and Dean is grateful and scared all at the same time. Slick fingers prod at his ass, and he tenses before forcing himself to relax. Cas surprises him, by gently rubbing his fingertips there until fear passes and Dean is pushing back to meet him. The gentle treatment continues, as Cas fingers him open slowly, one finger at a time, avoiding his prostate until he’s three fingers deep. Dean stares down at him, knowing he’s red eyed and is probably wearing the most stupidly adoring look. Cas looks back, smiles, then adds more lube.

When Cas swallows his cock again and rubs all three fingers in a tight circle over Dean’s prostate, Dean wails. It’s so overwhelmingly good and he’s so sensitive and it’s too much and not enough and --

“Daddy, please,” he keens, twisting. “Please, please, please, Daddy.”

Cas pops off his cock.

“I was going to let you come in my mouth,” he says, and okay, Dean isn’t the only one with a voice shot to hell now. “I was going to be nice to you. Would you like that? Fuck my mouth with my fingers in your ass, like a good boy?”

“Yes, yes, Daddy, yes,” Dean chants, fucking himself back on Cas’s fingers.

“Too bad you weren’t a good boy then,” Cas says. “You already came. So I decided you’d much rather be milked, wouldn’t you?”

No, no he would really rather not. It’s awful, terrible, the pleasure building and building until it drools out of him.

“Daddy,” Dean whimpers, desperate.

Cas’s free hand grabs his balls, pinching and twisting again, and Dean screams.

“Answer properly now,” Cas hisses, “or there will be consequences.”

“Yes, Daddy!” Dean shouts, heels thrumming uselessly against the bed. “Thank you, Daddy!”

“That’s what I thought. Come on,” Cas withdraws his fingers. “All fours now.”

Dean scurries into place where Cas points, goes down and presses his face against the bed, ass high in the air. Cas’s fingers find his ass, and then they’re inside him, wonderful and terrible, rubbing at Dean’s prostate as he cries. The pressure builds and his balls throb, and shivers wreck through him as he strains towards something he knows he’s not getting. He lets it happen, gives Cas what Cas wants, opens up as far as he can by grabbing his own asscheeks again, pulling them apart.

Cas makes a pleased sound, which is everything good that's ever happened in Dean’s life packed into one hum.

He crests without going over, and knows his cock is drooling come onto the bed, cries as the amazing orgasm he’d been building towards disappears through his cock, leaving him frustrated and unfulfilled, oversensitive and gaping open.

There’s no skin left on his body, he’s all wrenched open and raw, and that’s when Cas hauls him around, presses his face straight into the pool of cold and warm come that he’s spilled on the bed.

“They say if you push a dog’s nose into it’s mess, they learn to stop making messes,” Cas says. “Maybe it’ll work on useless boys like you.”

Then he’s behind Dean, pushing in, all but mounting him, his cock big and hot and filling Dean up in the best and worst of ways. The thrusts smear the come on Dean’s face, mixing with his snot and tears. Cas pins his hands behind his back, his other hand on Dean’s head, rubbing his face against the sheets.

“This,” Cas huffs as he thrusts. “This is where you belong. You’re mine, I’ll do whatever the fuck I want with you and you will learn to obey.”

“Yes, Daddy,” Dean manages between sobs.

“Aren’t you grateful for my patience? I’m taking the time to teach you,” Cas continues, and Dean has no idea how he can thrust so hard while talking, but Cas is merciless against Dean’s sore and abused prostate.

“Thank you, Daddy, thank you,” Dean chokes out, getting cold, slimey come in his mouth.

It doesn’t take long after that for Cas to come with fast, savage thrusts. As soon as he’s come down, he pulls off.

“Look at that,” he says, still breathing hard. “Used and leaking, face full of come. Pathetic. Get off my bed.”

He yanks Dean up by his hair, and shoves him into a corner, where Dean crumples as Cas leaves the room. He stays there, curled up into fetal position, and cries. Huge wrecking sobs that he didn’t know he had the energy for tear through him. He’s worthless. He’s useless. He’s not good for anything. It’s as awful as it’s liberating.

His tears have almost stopped by the time Cas comes back, slacks and shirt exchanged for soft pants and one of Dean’s t-shirts. As soon as Dean sees him, he reaches out with one trembling hand. It’s barely a twitch against the floor, but it makes Cas come crashing down next to him. Then he’s in Cas’s lap, face buried against his neck, and Cas is rubbing soft hands over his back.

“You okay?” Cas asks, voice low and warm.

Dean shakes his head mutely.

“Too much?”

Dean huffs a laugh and shakes his head again.

“We gonna sit here or move onto the bed?”

Dean hugs him harder.

“Alright. We’ll sit here for a bit, then we can move up on the bed. I’ve got Die Hard queued up on Netflix, and there’s going to be hot chocolate later. I remembered the marshmallows too.”

Dean nods, snuggling closer.

That all sounds great, but for now, all he needs is Cas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Re: Humiliation. Dean in this fic loves humiliation. There's no name calling, as such, so Cas doesn't use things like whore/slut. He talks about whoring Dean out, but it'll never actually happen. He calls Dean useless and pathetic, but he doesn't actually think that. This is a consensual scene in a loving, if unconventional, relationship. 
> 
> Other than that, I seriously can't believe that the this fic started with the idea of "I should write Luke some cute Daddy kink." Well, bby, you got daddy kink, but there's apparently nothing cute about it. I had a wonderful chat with someone about what a relationship would look like between a sadist!Castiel and a Dean who's not a masochist but still deeply submissive and will take the pain anyway, because it pleases Cas. The ideas mashed together. 
> 
> Will there be more chapters? I honestly don't know. I think so? Maybe?


	3. Chapter 3

They meet on a Thursday, which is ironic for many reasons, but probably most of all because it’s 2 am on Thursday morning in a shitty bar during spring break. It’s not even _Dean’s_ spring break, no, it’s Sammy’s, and Dean has no idea why he’s here. The music is loud, Sam disappeared ages ago, Dean is entirely sober and everyone here is so stupidly young.

“Hey, fuck you,” Dean mutters to the guy that shoulders past him and knocks his overpriced drink over.

“What?” The guy says, turning.

Startlingly blue eyes meet Dean’s and Dean stands.

“You knocked over my drink,” he says, slowly, “So I said _fuck. you._ ”

The guy frowns and tilts his head.

“What if I’d rather fuck you?”

Look, Dean isn’t easy. He’s gotten picked up plenty in his life, even at twenty-three. He knows a shitty line when he hears one, and there’s absolutely no reason for why he’s suddenly outside, Guy’s hands in his hair as they kiss open mouthed against the Impala.

When Dean wrenches away and unlocks the car - and look, Guy knocked over his only drink, okay, so he’s totally fine to drink… drive! Anyway. He fumbles out his phone, and sees the text he probably should’ve noticed an hour ago, where Sam The Traitor says he found a DD and is going to another party. Dean texts back something about brothers and assholes, and he swears it’s really witty, but afterwards, he can’t remember what he said because Guy has his hand over the fly of Dean’s jeans and he’s rubbing, firm and delicious.

It’s supposed to be a one-night-stand.

They’re supposed to never, ever see each other again.

Except... One night turns into a booty call turns into 3am pancakes at that one diner with the weird smelling waitress.

“Dude,” Sam says with an irritated frown one day. “Just introduce me to your boyfriend already.”

Dean chokes on his tacos, then chews Sam out for trying to kill him. He does bring Cas to Bobby’s for BBQ on Friday though.

“Jesus Christ, boy,” Bobby says, and Dean’s heart is in his throat before Bobby continues, “You’re lucky I got extra burgers. Now set the goddamn table.”

The burgers are delicious, even though Sam attempts to murder Dean again when he asks, “So, Cas, how did you meet?”

and Cas answers,

“He’s easy.”

Dean doesn’t fake his outrage as Sam and Bobby laugh. He really, actually, truly isn’t easy. Anymore. Whatever, the point is… he sort of wants to crawl in under Cas’s skin and stay there, alright,  and that? That’s not being easy. Easy is good, it’s simple. This? This is terrifying.

He’s so scared, he grabs Cas’s hand under the table and holds it for a long time. That’s his story if anyone asks. They don’t though, and Cas only smiles and kisses his knuckles.

… yeah, he’s fucked.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BEWARE: New tags have been added. See end notes for details.

It’s an accident, really.

Cas is above him, fucking into him with the kind of long, deep thrusts that make Dean gasp and shudder. They’re pressed close, and the friction of Cas’s sweat slick stomach against Dean’s cock is amazing, almost better than the hand pinning his wrists above his head. Cas’s other hand smoothes over Dean’s jaw, tilts his head, and oh, God, that hand over his neck feels so, so good.

Dean tilts his head back, sees Cas’s eyes narrow slightly, the observant bastard, and then the hand is squeezing gently, questioningly, and goddamn, Dean wants, wants this so bad.

“Yellow,” he gasps out, and Cas visibly startles, pulling back, pulling out.

“No, no,” Dean whimpers, tightens his legs around Cas’s waist. “Just - later, nego- _oh_ -otiatie, crap, Cas, please.”

“Alright,” Cas agrees, and he’s out of breath too.

There’s a devilish smile on his face when he rears up, weight on Dean’s wrists, and fucks him harder. Dean’s eyes roll back when Cas nails his prostate, a tight fist around Dean’s cock, and he comes, pinned down and speared and utterly perfect.

It only gets better after that.

***

When Dean wakes up on Sunday to find the enema bulb sitting on top of his phone and Cas nowhere in sight, he knows something is up. He dicks around on his phone for ten minutes, before realising he’s far too restless for this, then gets up and goes to use it.

Showered and squeaky clean, he makes his way downstairs in boxers and a t-shirt, because there’s no reason to get dressed. Cas is in the kitchen, sipping what’s probably his second or third cup of coffee and reading something on his Kindle.

The way he instantly puts the mug and Kindle down, and comes over to press Dean into the counter, his tongue fucking slow and languid into Dean’s mouth, is kind of telling.

“Good morning,” Dean says.

“Good morning,” Cas replies against his lips, then kisses him again. “You look good today.”

Dean grins. “Good enough to ruin?”

“Exactly,” Cas says, then pulls back.

They eat breakfast like any other Sunday, and the tension builds inside Dean as he trails along after Cas all morning. Cas gets dressed, jeans and soft flanel, but he refuses Dean any more clothes. A few lazy hours later, Dean goes to use the downstairs bathroom, only to find the door locked.

“Cas, did you do something to the bathroom door?” he shouts over his shoulder, already heading for the stairs.

“As a matter of fact, I did,” Cas says from behind him, and a heavy hand grabs his neck. “Why don’t you come with me to the kitchen.”

He lets himself get steered back into the kitchen, where a bandana sits innocently on the kitchen island.

“Hop up,” Cas says, and pats the counter next to the bandana.

Dean scoots backwards up on the counter, nerves making him swallows against his dry mouth.

“Thirsty?” Cas asks, and the concern in his voice is definitely mocking now. “Let me grab you some water, baby. You just sit there.”

“It’s okay!” Dean says. “I’m good, actually, I was just about to go pee.”

Cas hands him a large glass of ice water then stares at him until he drinks it all. The water fills his stomach and he sets it down before wiping his mouth. Cas is right between his legs now, casually tying a knot in the middle of bandana.

Dean opens his mouth to ask a question, and finds the knot forced into his mouth, his head yanked forward as Cas ties it off. It’s tight, so tight, the cotton digs into the sides of his mouth and Dean stares at Cas with wide eyes. As though through a trance, he sees himself lifting a hand towards his mouth, then his hands are twisted behind his back and the click of handcuffs is loud in the kitchen. He whimpers silently as Cas reappears.

“I thought we should spend some quality time together today,” Cas says, tracing his hands over Deans thighs, scratching his fingers through the coarse hair.

Dean manages an _uh-huh_ from behind the improvised gag. The handcuffs are solid and hard, keeping his hands behind his back.

Cas pets his forehead, fingers gentle against Dean’s ear. “See, I have this theory. It goes like this: You’re a dirty boy. You’re going to piss yourself, right here, in the kitchen, and then I’m going to use you while you’re covered in your own piss and filth - and you’re going to love it.”

Dean makes a sound of outrage and shakes his head violently. He fucking well isn’t!

“No?” Cas’s voice is still so gentle. “You’ll just have to prove me wrong, then.”

At first, Cas does nothing, and Dean tracks him as Cas tidies up the kitchen, moves some of the chairs from the breakfast nook away. He whimpers when Cas makes sure to pull all the blinds and curtains away from the kitchen windows, letting in the sunlight from the backyard. They don’t live far outside of town, but far enough that their neighbours aren’t within shouting distance. Knowing that doesn’t help the fear in Dean’s stomach. The sunshine makes him feel like at any point, someone could walk by and see him gagged and cuffed, sitting like an overgrown toddler on a counter.

He shifts, feeling the uncomfortable weight in his bladder. Isn’t exploding bladder a thing? Before he knows he’s doing it, he’s slid off the counter and bolted for the stairs, trying to get to the master bath which Cas couldn’t have locked since he used it this morning.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Cas asks from behind him, a hand gripping his elbow.

Dean yanks his arm back and scrambles for the stairs. Cas’s arm goes around his waist like an iron band, hauling him back. Dean’s pleading behind the gag, trying to wrench free and kick after Cas’s legs. He needs the damn bathroom! When Cas calmly drags him back towards the kitchen, Dean goes limp and lets himself noodle out of Cas’s grip, flopping to the floor. Cas sighs in irritation, bends down and wrestles grip around each of Dean ankles, turns him onto his stomach and unceremoniously hauls him right back into the kitchen. Dean screams behind his gag, angry and humiliated.

“I was going to be nice,” Cas says, hauling him over to the tap, then pinning him down with a foot on his neck. “Do you know what nice boys say? They say _thank you, Daddy_ , and they get rewards. You? You don’t get anything, I swear to god. Always such a fucking disappointment.”

That’s when the tears start prickling Dean’s eyes. Cas digs his heel in as he pulls something out of a drawer, opens and closes the freezer. Items are set on the counter.

“One more try now,” Cas says, and hauls him up. “You’re going to pick your punishment, and if you try run from me again, you’ll get both. Now. Pick.”

There’s a bottle of hot sauce and a glass of ice on the counter, and Dean has no idea which one is going to be worse. He tries staring pleadingly at Cas. Cas sighs again, fits his hand against Dean’s neck and shoves him down on the counter. Hard smacks hit his ass and Dean groans.

“Pick one,” Cas says menacingly in his ear. “Or I’ll pick both and make up something far, far worse, if you run again.”

Desperately, Dean looks from the icy to the hot sauce and back again, before finally nodding towards the ice.

“Ice, huh? Good choice,” Cas says, yanks his boxers down and presses two slick fingers into Dean’s ass.

Dean shouts behind the soaked knot of his gag. The stretch is too much and he struggles against the handcuffs, yanking at them as he tries to get his feet under him. Cas rubs his prostate and Dean shudders, collapsing forward. Then the fingers disappear and Cas heaves him up on the counter.

“Up, up,” Cas snaps. “On your knees.”

The handcuffs dig painfully into his wrists as Dean wriggles into position. Cas has him spread his legs wide, presses on his ass until Dean’s face is mashed into the counter, abs already strained.

“How far did you get before I caught you?” Cas muses. “Fifteen feet? Let’s go with that.”

Ice clinks behind him and Cas’s hand spreads his cheeks. Dean shrikes, shrill and loud as ice is pressed against his hole. It’s burning cold and he pitches himself forward to get away, shivering from the shock. Cas’s hand on his hip pulls him back, pushes the cube against his ass and Dean moans behind his gag as it slips in. Another cube follows, then yet another, and they settle inside him, cold and hard and terrible. He’s gasping by the time Cas says, “Last one” and unceremoniously shoves a piece of ice inside him.

“Maybe this is too easy,” Cas muses. “Oh well. Five minutes, boy.”

He presses a piece of ice against Dean’s taint and Dean whines pathetically. Time moves slowly, the ice inside him and the ice on his taint melting. It burns with cold. By the time Cas sits him up on his knees and has him push the water out into a bowl, his briefs are wet where Cas has left them on his thighs, his gag is soaked with saliva and Dean’s lashes are sticky with tears.

“Now, let’s make sure you won’t be going anywhere,” Cas says.

He yanks Dean’s briefs off the rest of the way, then cuts off Dean’s T-shirt with a pair of scissors. When he turns Dean around, there’s a plug suction cupped onto the counter, near the corner of the island. It’s not the biggest one they own, but once it’s in, there will be no ignoring it, that’s for sure.

“Please, Daddy,” Dean tries behind the gag, but it comes out more like _p-he-ese ‘a’ee._

Cas obviously doesn’t care, as he guides Dean down on the slick plug, conveniently spreading his legs over the corner. The plug presses relentlessly against Dean’s bladder and he whimpers and wriggles. His feet can’t reach the floor like this and all he can accomplish are small circles with his hips. That just makes it rub against his bladder and prostate, which hurts in dull throbs.

Cas tugs his briefs further down, then closes a hand around Dean’s cock.

“Look at this,” he says, squeezing, “you’re getting hard. You wouldn’t be getting hard if you didn’t like this - you’re going to have to work harder if you’re going to prove that you don’t.”

Dean’s shoulders ache as he hunches forward, tugging awkwardly at the unyielding cuffs around his wrists. He feels pathetic, speared on the plug and cock hardening against Cas’s hand. The tears come back, running silently over his cheeks. His jaw hurts. Cas’s hand goes away and comes back warm and slick, which feels so good Dean groans deeply.

There’s a snick and an acrid smell, and Dean looks down to where his cock is slowly sliding in and out of Cas’s hand. There’s a permanent marker in Cas’s other hand, and he’s writing on Dean’s left thigh, neat precise strokes that trail down towards his knee. When Cas stands up, black letters stare back at Dean.

P A T H E T I C

He sobs. Cas’s fist tightens around his cock.

“Isn’t that pretty?” Cas croons. “I wanted to decorate you, and you are pretty pathetic.”

Dean’s cheeks are aflame and shame burns hot in his chest, even as Cas’s hand on his cock sends pleasure coursing through him.

U S E L E S S

The letters on his other thigh scream at him.

Dean comes. Sudden, hot and helpless, all over Cas’s fist. He shudders through it, gasping.

“Look at that,” Cas mocks. “You _are_ loving this.”

Dean shakes his head, even as he tries to get away from where Cas’s fist continues to stroke him. The only thing he manages is to rub back at the plug in his ass. His bladder hurts. He’s over-sensitive and whining by the time Cas lets his cock go, only to dig his come covered into Dean’s hair, yanking his head back.

The pen scratches against his chest.

“Filthy,” Cas reads, decisive and firm. “That’s what you are, isn’t it? Filthy and loving it.”

Dean tries to shake his head, but Cas’s hand in his hair forces him to nod.

“I thought so.”

The fist closes back around his cock, and Dean jerks, pushes back onto the plug, but Cas strokes him soft and loose, barely enough to keep him hard even after his orgasm. It’s so intense, far too much. He screams when Cas rubs his palm across the head of his cock, kicking and twisting, tears and snot streaming down his face.

“Oh yes, I almost forgot,” Cas says and lets go.

Dean pants miserably as he watches Cas spell out DESPERATE along his stomach, right above his cock, drawing an arrow to point down at it. Then the hand is around Dean’s cock and he closes his eyes, whining. It goes on forever, moving from too much to not enough, from Dean trying to twitch away from Cas’s hand, to fucking himself into it, then pressing himself back onto the plug.

“Dirty,” Cas says, voice as cold as the ice he shoved into Dean earlier. “Dirty and desperate. Look at you, I could put on a damn show, just you desperately trying to get off, anyway you can. Are you going to come, hmm?”

Dean nods, shame and guilt warring with the orgasm coiling in his stomach.

“You going to make a big mess, right here in the kitchen?”

Dean nods again, grinding back at the plug, so, so close.

“I don’t fucking think so.”

Cas grabs the base of his cock and squeezes and Dean’s eyes fly open, nostrils flaring as he sucks in more air and tries to understand what’s going on. Cas grinds the heel of his hand into Dean’s bladder, and Dean tenses, thinking he’s going to piss himself even as his cock throbs with how close to coming he is.

“What’s it worth to you?” Cas asks. “Hm? What’s it worth having an orgasm? Would you let me pour that hot sauce into your dick? Bet that would burn. Bet you’d scream so good. Would you do that for the chance to come?”

Dean is shivering everywhere, his bladder painful and he wants to come, wants to piss, but he shakes his head.

“No? You don’t want that? You don’t want to come?”

Dean shakes his head again.

“Well, you can choose. That’s option A. Option B is… well. I won’t tell you. You can have the known, or the unknown.”

Cas picks up the bottle with hot sauce, tosses it from hand to hand as he leans back against the fridge.

“Which one will it be?” he muses. “I bet you could come through the hot sauce. Bet it’d hurt, but maybe it’d feel a little bit good too.”

Dean glares at him. He’s pretty fucking sure that’s not going to feel any kind of good, thanks for fucking asking.

“Alright. Time to pick one. Hot sauce?”

Dean shakes his head. Hard.

“Option B it is. Shame. Option A would’ve pleased me so much.” Cas’s eyes are cold. “But you always were such a fucking disappointment, weren’t you? Selfish. Not a single thought to how I’d feel.”

That cuts deep. Dean hangs his head in shame as Cas opens and closes kitchen drawers. He knows he can’t really win, but he could at least not disappoint Cas. He’s so fucking useless. He should have done the hot sauce, even though it scared the fuck out of him.

The hand grabbing his balls makes him shriek in pain.

“See? That’s what I want to hear.” Cas says.

Scratchy twine wraps around his balls, then Cas ties one string to each of his big toes, forcing Dean’s legs into an awkward bend where he can’t straighten them without tugging painfully on his balls. He tries taking a deep breath through his clogged nose, but looks up and chokes.

Cas is holding a spatula. Dean knows that spatula, knows the round purple bruises, knows the force of it. He’s never been able to stay still through a beating with it.

“By the end of this, you’ll be wishing you’d have chosen the hot sauce.”

The first hit against the inside of his right thigh is pure, white pain. Dean flinches, which makes his legs move, which tugs hard at his balls.

 _Smack_.

Dean keens, tries leaning backwards, which only pushes the plug harder against his painful bladder.

_Smack._

He kicks, then he screams.

By the time there are six circular marks on the inside of his right thigh, looking like large paw prints as they meander from knee to groin, Dean is sobbing again. His shoulders are screaming, his wrists are sore and probably bruised, his chin is covered in drool, and his balls throb with pain. Cas hums, pleased, and presses the heel of his hand against his own crotch, the first sign Dean’s seen of him being turned on at all.

He taps the inside of Dean’s left knee with the spatula and Dean seizes, trying to pull his knees up, rocking backwards and putting his entire weight on the plug. A bit of piss dribbles out of his soft cock, which only makes him sob.

“Dean,” Cas warns him, tapping him with the spatula again. “Behave.”

It takes a full minute to manage to sit up and spread his legs for Cas. He’s trembling all over.

_Smack._

He’s screaming again. Shrill shrieks muffled by his wet gag, thighs yanked closed, then reluctantly opened again.

_Smack._

Another six perfectly round bruises walk up from his knee to his groin. At the end of it, he’s so exhausted, he leans forward, seeking Cas’s heat like a dog begging for attention.

The only thing he gets is a hand on his cock, which wants no part in the proceedings. It takes a long time for Cas to stroke him into hardness, even longer for him to get Dean rocking between the plug and his hand. Dean draws comfort from that hand, their only point of connection, and fucks himself desperately into hit, back on the plug, then into Cas’s hand again. He comes hard and slow, gasping for air and almost falling forward off the counter with the force. A hand on his shoulder stops him, even as Cas’s hand twists, wringing it out of him. It goes on forever, his balls hurting and legs cramping.

Then, the heel of Cas’s hand is on his bladder again and this time Dean doesn’t have a chance to stop it. Piss rushes out of his cock, up over his stomach and down his legs. It goes absolutely everywhere and he’s moaning from the relief and pleasure. It’s like coming all over again, until he’s all out and empty and exhausted.

It barely matters when Cas helps him roll onto his side and pulls the plug out. He’s turned onto his stomach and his legs and ass hang over the edge of the counter, leaving him unbalanced. He accidentally tugs at his balls and whimpers.

Cas’s cock shoving into him is an electric current waking him up, making him strain and keen. Cas holds onto his cuffed arms as he thrusts, short hard jabs that grind Dean’s oversensitive cock against the edge of the counter. Dean stares at the open window, their yard and patio. Piss and come make squelching sounds under his stomach, but he doesn’t care. Cas said he’d piss himself and love it, and Cas was right. He’s nothing. Cas using his body is all that matters, it’s what he was made for. Everything else is inconsequential.

Cas shoves in, nails digging deep into Dean’s ass as he comes inside him.

Dean stays, as Cas steps away.

He stays, covered in piss and come and with more come leaking out of him, as Cas uncaps the pen again. Something gets written on his ass, then the plug is shoved back in and Dean closes his eyes and floats.

Later, Cas will use him again, before pulling him up and leading him into the shower. Dean will stand in front of the mirror and watch the words written all over his body in permanent marker.

P A T H E T I C

U S E L E S S

F I L T H Y

D E S P E R A T E

D A D D Y ‘ S    T O Y

Only the last one matters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Desperation play: Dean really, really needs to wee.   
> Watersports: Then he wees.


	5. Chapter 5

Dean’s bound, trussed up like a turkey, when it happens. His hands are behind his back, hogtied to his ankles, the chafing from the carpet on his knees burning from where he struggled as Cas bound him.

The first time he hears it he freezes in cold dread.

Then he hears it again.

“Red,” he manages, and once he’s started he can’t stop. “Red, red, red, red, red, red.”

It takes Cas exactly a second to come crashing down next to him, another fifteen before the ropes have been deftly cut through and Dean’s cradled in Cas’s lap, shaking.

When he manages to catch his breath, he looks over to the nightstand where his own lighter lies innocuously next to a red candle.

They ban all forms of fire.


	6. Chapter 6

Dean’s cock is stupid. Dean dislikes shame and embarrassment, and he’d rather die than admit someone can get to him. His cock thinks that Dean being ridiculed, made small, _less than_ , is the bee’s knees. Even worse, when Cas calls him on how hard his cock can get from it, and Dean’s cheeks burn and he cries from humiliation, but his cock stays absolutely rock hard and throbbing.

He wants to get away from it and have it never happen again, but he also wants it, craves it, dreams about it and wakes up hard. He’s spent more than one night on his back next to Cas, who sleeps like the dead, hands over the covers and cock weeping in his boxers, because he’s no longer allowed to touch himself on his own. It’s uncomfortable as all hell, and confessing it to Cas in the morning is fucking humiliating. It’s also pretty great.

On the other hand, Dean _hates_ pain. He hates it passionately, with a vengeance bordering on fury. Pain never turns him on. If he’s hard, he’ll inevitably soften if something hurts. Other people talk about pain feeling like pleasure or the heat of a red ass spreading through their entire body, and that’s never been Dean’s experience. Pain is awful and terrible, and to be avoided at all costs.

Cas, however, loves seeing him in pain. The more he hurts, the harder Cas gets. The more he moans, grunts, screams, the more Cas wants to put his cock anywhere inside Dean. Snot and tears can get Cas hard in the blink of an eye, because if Dean’s crying, it means he’s suffering. Cas’s cock doesn’t care one whit if Dean’s hard or not. Cas confessed once that it’s even better when Dean isn’t, because that means he’s not gaining anything from the pain. His suffering is all for Cas’s pleasure.

Dean, being the epitome of self-discipline, only jerked off to that thought four times.

Granted, Cas had caught him on the last one, face down, ass up, four fingers in his ass and hand flying on his cock. The bastard hadn’t even told Dean he was there, until after Dean had come. He’d made Dean tell him every detail, before mounting him and using his loose, oversensitive ass until Dean had cried and Cas had come, biting Dean’s neck.

The rule about not touching himself came in to play after that.

“Stop moving,” Cas grunts in irritation one evening.

Dean has been shifting and wriggling in bed since they let the lights out, restless and with his dick twitching. Normally, he’d have slid out of bed at this point, gone to the bathroom and silently jerked off into the toilet, so that he could come back and sleep, but that’s not allowed any more. He manages to stay still for a few minutes, before slowly rolling his hips against the bed. He isn’t touching, he justifies, just rubbing.

Cas’s lamp is blinding and when Cas turns back to him, it’s with his hair tousled and dark stubble all over his jaw. It doesn’t exactly help the situation in Dean’s pants.

“What’s going on?” Cas mutters, pulling his blanket up over his shoulder.

Dean’s cheeks heat. “Nothing.”

“You’ve been tossing and twitching for the past half-hour, Dean.”

“I --” Dean starts, then shrugs. “It’s nothing, you can turn the lights off again. I’ll be still.”

“It’s clearly something.” Cas squints at him. “Do I need to force you?”

That’s also happened before, and shame flits straight through Dean at the thought of Cas forcing him to talk.

“No, no. I’m go good now,” Dean says, snuggling his pillow. “All good.”

Cas’s hand clamps down on his wrist. “Last chance.”

“Dude!” Dean tries to jerk his hand back, but Cas has an iron grip. “I’m just horny, that’s all.”

“Hmm.” The grip slackens.

Dean pulls his wrist free and rubs it. “Ow.”

Cas rolls his eyes. “I wasn’t even squeezing. Now, what were you going to do about it?”

“About you bruising my wrist?”

“About being horny, you nitwit.”

“That’s not even a word, who says that?”

Cas groans and hides his head in his pillow. When he reappears, it’s with narrowed eyes and Dean barely has time to flinch before the covers have been jerked off him.

“Cas!” Dean whines, goosebumps quickly covering his skin.

“Beg me for it,” Cas says, undeterred.

“Can I please have the covers back? Please?”

“Don’t think for a second that I’ll hesitate to put you over my knee, Dean. This ends in two ways; either I spank you and let you cry yourself to sleep on the floor, or you beg me for permission to jerk off.”

“That’s not fair!”

Cas barely has time to push himself up before Dean regrets everything.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry! May I please jerk off, sir? Please.”

Cas pauses, eyes narrowed and cold.

“Please, sir, please,” Dean begs. “I can get off really quickly and then we can sleep, I swear!”

“I don’t know,” Cas says, but he’s laying down again. “You’re being quite the brat. Maybe I should just have you sleep on the floor, that’s less work for me.”

“Please don’t,” Dean says, and his eyes sting. “I’ll do it anyway you want, sir!”

“You’re not even hard,” Cas notes, glancing down. “Why would I let you?”

“Because,” Dean turns towards him, slides into his usual sleeping position. “Because this,” he says, “I keep rubbing against the bed and it feels so good, sir.”

His hips make small circles as he thrusts against the bed, which isn’t nearly enough pressure, just enough to tease.

“So that’s what’s making the bed shake,” Cas mutters, unimpressed.

“Yes, sir,” Dean says, slightly breathless, as he keep grinding down.

“Go slower,” Cas says, and Dean whimpers slightly and slows down. “Slower. There. Good. You can get off, if you don’t irritate me.”

“Thank you, sir,” Dean says and reaches down towards his boxers.

Cas catches his hand. “Mm, no. Let’s see how close you can get from just this.”

Dean whimpers again and buries his head in his pillow. He’s on full display now, rutting into the sheets like an animal.

“I don’t think so,” Cas says, and takes his pillow.

Dean whines, but doesn’t stop the slow, dirty grind against the sheet. His cock is fully hard now, trapped inside his boxers, and he can’t quite get a good angle.

“Tell me what you’re thinking about,” Cas prompts.

“I can’t,” Dean says.

“Why?”

“It’s embarrassing.”

“Even better.”

“No.” Even Dean can hear how petulant he sounds.

“Dean,” Cas warns. “I’m doing you a favour and letting you get off tonight. You promised you’d do it anyway I wanted. That spanking is still an option.”

Dean groans in defeat. “I’m thinking,” he starts, “I’m thinking about how exposed I am. How I can’t hide.”

“And?”

“It’s stupid.”

“Tell me anyway.”

“I’m humping the bed, and you’re watching, and I can’t hide, and it’s embarrassing, alright? It’s as if I’m so horny I can’t control myself.”

“Aren’t you?” Cas’s face is entirely neutral. “Isn’t that what started this?”

Dean flushes. “No.”

“Oh, so I’m not awake right now, because you couldn’t sleep because you’re so horny? I’m not here, watching you grind your needy cock against the bed?”

Oh _god_.

“Yes, you are, sir,” Dean whispers, suddenly hoarse.

“I’m what?”

Dean closes his eyes tight, and rushes out, “You’re awake right now because I can’t control my needy little cock and am humping the bed.”

“That’s right.”

To say Dean’s hard now, would be an understatement. He’s hard like diamond, his boxers sticking uncomfortably against the tip of his cock where precome must have leaked onto the material.

“Why don’t you roll over, show me that needy little cock?” Cas suggests.

Dean starts rolling over, then remembers he’s not supposed to shake the bed, so he shifts slowly, gently, until his back is against the bed and his tented boxers are fully on display. Cas hums gently, putting Dean’s pillow behind his head to prop himself up enough to see.

“Look at that,” he says. “So needy.”

“Yes, sir,” Dean whispers. “I’m sorry I can’t control it, sir.”

“That’s why you have me, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Dean nods, and he thinks his heart is going to beat out of his chest with how embarrassed he is. “Thank you for controlling my greedy cock, sir.”

“It’d do you good if I just left you like this,” Cas muses. “Maybe that little cock of yours would learn some manners.”

Dean’s cock isn’t little, it’s entirely average, long and slender with a nice curve, thank you very much. Hearing Cas call it _little_ makes Dean want to curl in over himself to protect it, to hide and apologise for it. It also makes his balls ache. His hips are still circling, rubbing the wet spot inside his boxers against the tip of his cock.

“I think it’s too needy though,” Cas says. “Look at you, you can’t even stop now.”

Dean whines in shame.

“What else are you thinking?”

“That’m leaking,” Dean manages, hips twisting restlessly.

“Poor baby, that must be really uncomfortable.”

Dean nods, avoiding Cas’s eyes.

“I’ll let you get those sticky, dirty boxers off, if you lick them clean.”

“Yeah,” Dean breathes.

“Alright, go ahead. Slowly, wouldn’t want to rock the bed, would you?”

“No.” It comes out as a whine, soft and pathetic, as Dean wriggles out of his boxers oh-so-gently.

The cool air against his hard on is a shock. He whimpers slightly as his cock straightens out, finally free of it’s confines, as he brings the soiled boxers into his hand and up towards his face. He stares pleadingly at Cas, but Cas doesn’t stop him as he turns the sticky wet spot out and puts it on his tongue. It’s bitter and salty. He must look like an idiot with the front of his boxers shoved into his mouth with a leaking cock laying against his stomach.

“It doesn’t make your cock go down,” Cas murmurs. “I think you like that. Do you?”

Dean nods slowly.

“What do you say, Dean?”

“Thank you, sir,” Dean murmurs around the cotton, sucking slightly at it.

“It’s not just your cock that’s greedy, is it? I think all of you is greedy.”

Dean wants to object, but what can he say? He’s splayed over their bed, entirely on display, sucking his own underwear where his hard cock had been leaking into them because he couldn’t stop humping the bed.

He nods, defeated.

“What about your nipples?” Cas asks. “Are they greedy?”

Dean traces his hands down, feathers over his nipples, and nods.

“Oh my,” Cas says. “What should we do about that?”

Dean stares at him, then strokes his nipples, plucking gently at them. Cas’s nipples aren’t sensitive at all, but Dean’s are. He flicks a dull fingernail over one one, and moans behind his impromptu gag. It takes a long while, but he plucks and pinches, twists and flicks, until he’s gasping in air through his nose, hips restless. It’s so frustrating, because it feels so, so good, but it’s not enough, not nearly enough.

The pleading looks he’s giving Cas have an entirely different cause now.

“They really are greedy. Where else are you greedy?”

Dean’s hands move down his stomach, settle near his cock, close enough that he can feel the heat from his hand against it.

“Yes, I can see your cock. We’ve already established that you have a needy, greedy little cock that doesn’t have any manners. It’s just like a spoiled little boy, isn’t it?”

Dean whimpers in shame at that, shaking his head.

“No? It’s not?”

He shakes his head again.

“So it’s not your needy cock that’s leaking all over your stomach, even though you’ve got dirty underwear in your mouth? I think you can take those out now, did you get them clean?”

Dean gives his underwear a good suck before spitting them out and showing them to Cas. “They’re clean now, sir,” he says.

Cas hums, amused. “Did you realise I said you could lick them clean?”

Dean suddenly feels like his entire body is on fire. He shakes his head mutely.

“What did you do instead?”

“Put them in my mouth and sucked them clean,” Dean whispers.

“Come on, I don’t think that’s the entire truth.”

“I put my dirty underwear in my greedy mouth and sucked them, sir,” Dean says, and now his eyes sting.

“Yes, you did. What does that make you?”

“A dirty, needy, greedy little boy,” Dean whispers.

“Have you noticed how you’re grinding back on the bed yet?”

Dean’s hips stutter, because he was, he was grinding back onto the bed.

“I think there’s a bodypart you haven’t mentioned yet,” Cas notes.

Dean’s hands skim down his body again, and he slowly spreads his legs.

“My ass, sir,” he says, and now that he’s thinking about it, he feels so empty. “I think I have a greedy ass that just wants to be filled.”

“Is that why you’ve been grinding the bed like a bitch in heat?” Cas’s tone is mild, soft.

Dean closes his eyes and his cock throbs and a tear runs down one cheek. This isn’t embarrassing, this is humiliating. It’s like Cas is seeing into the depths of his soul, those parts where he wants to have his ass fucked, his mouth filled, he wants to be covered in come and completely debased.

He tells Cas all of it in a breathless voice as his fingers press and rub against his asshole.

“Such a greedy boy,” Cas says. “You just can’t get enough, can you?”

Dean shakes his head. “You should keep me like a human fleshlight,” he says. “Use me every time you want to get off. Keep my ass stretched and lubed so you can slide straight in. Keep me in a cage the rest of the time, desperate for you. Maybe you should lock my cock away, make sure I don’t get anything out of it.”

His fingers are dry against his taint and hole, but it feels so good. He’s writhing, panting slightly.

“Put those fingers in your mouth now,” Cas says. “Get them nice and wet.”

Dean’s left hand flies up to his mouth, fingers shoving in deep enough to make him gag.

Cas tuts. “So greedy.”

Dean’s on fire, he’s one giant nerve ending and he groans around the fingers in his mouth, sucking desperately on them before coating them in as much spit as he can. He’s shaking by the time he reaches back and presses them against his hole.

“Take your time,” Cas says. “I know your hole is really greedy, I know you can’t help yourself. I’ll help you pace yourself, it’s okay now.”

He turns his head towards Cas, knows he’s blushed so hard he must be red all the way down onto his chest, but all he can think of are the slick fingers rubbing small, maddening circles against his hole. He’s gentle, and it feels almost like he’s getting rimmed, small kitten licks tap-tap-taping, circling.

He tries to tell Cas, but then he has to pull out the fingers of his other hand from his mouth and he didn’t even notice when he started sucking on them.

“That’s it,” Cas murmurs. “You don’t need anything else, only your holes filled with cock and come, isn’t that right?”

Dean can’t stop whimpering, pressing back at the fingers on his hole, then shoving the other hand deeper into his mouth. It’s like he’s fucking himself on both ends, speared on the bed while Cas is cool as a cucumber, watching this writhing, desperate mess that Dean’s become.

“Press in, just one finger. Go slow. Don’t make the bed move. You’re a toy, you shouldn’t inconvenience me with all the prep, should you?”

Dean presses the pad of one finger inside himself and sobs around the fingers in his mouth. It’s too much. It’s not enough. The spit is drying already, and it’s slightly too rough. He pulls the fingers he’s been sucking on out of his mouth.

“Sir,” he says. “Sir, may I have some lube?”

“How about you beg me for it.”

“Please sir,” Dean gasps, pushing against that finger. “Please sir, I really need some lube so I can open my fuck hole for you, sir, please. I’ll open it so good, make it really wet so that you can fuck it anyway you want, do anything you want to it.”

Cas slides a hand out from beneath the cover he’s still under, leaving the bottle they’ve taken to keeping under a pillow. Dean grabs for it, opens it with trembling hands and squirts lube all over his fingers before dropping it. His hands quickly return to their places, one hand to his mouth and the other to his ass. He shakes as he presses a finger tip inside himself, groaning loudly.

“I don’t think you’re a toy,” Cas says. “You’re too loud to be a toy, too greedy. You think too much about yourself, Dean.”

Dean flushes with guilt, even as he can’t stop sucking on his fingers, fucking back on the finger pressing deeper and deeper into his ass. He is selfish. He’s keeping Cas awake.

“I can stop,” he offers, after yanking the fingers out of his mouth. “We can go to sleep, sir.”

Cas shakes his head. “I don’t think so. I think you need discipline. I think you need to learn to be a good fuck toy.”

It’s like Cas has found a magic button in Dean and he’s pressing it, over and over again. Dean nods, and notices he’s sucking on his fingers again, but he doesn’t care. Cas will make it better.

“I think every filthy, greedy little cock needs an owner, don’t you?”

Dean nods and slurps around his fingers, pressing another into his ass, rocking gently back at them.

“Another finger already? That really is a greedy ass, dear god. Maybe it needs an owner too.” Cas has gone slightly hoarse, but he looks the same, squinty eyes and tousled hair, and Dean loves him so, so much.

He nods again, desperate, fucking himself between the fingers in his ass and the fingers in his mouth.

“We already said that needy little cocks and greedy asses belong to dirty boys. Maybe the dirty boy needs a Daddy?”

Dean keens. He doesn’t know where to go, he’s so exposed and his cock is smearing precome all over his stomach, pulsing and throbbing even though he hasn’t even touched it yet. His nipples are hard in the cool air, his fingers in his ass are so good and not enough, and he’s so, so humiliated. He wants to be good, he wants to be good for Cas.

“Turn around,” Cas says. “Put that ass in the air and show me how open you got it.”

Dean pulls his fingers out as he scrambles up and around, heedless of moving the bed, turns his ass towards Cas and tilts his hips.

“I can’t see, show me properly.”

Tears start streaming down Dean’s face as he reaches back and holds himself open, face smashed into the sheets and his hole on display.

“That looks empty,” Cas notes.

“It is,” Dean sobs. “I am.”

“Should I put something in it?”

“Please sir, please fill me up,” Dean begs, rocking slightly, trying to beg with his entire body.

“Just like a bitch in heat,” Cas says. “What do you want in it?”

“Anything,” Dean begs.

“My pinkie?” Cas sounds surprised.

Dean hiccups. “Your - your cock, sir.”

“Must not want it very much if you aren’t begging. I should leave you like this.”

“Please,” Dean has no shame left. “Please put your cock in my fuck hole, sir. Please.”

“Sir?”

Alright, turns Dean does have some shame left. He sobs for a moment, the sheet under him wet with tears.

“D--D--Daddy,” he blubs. “Daddy please, please, please fuck my greedy fuck hole, please, please use me, please make me your good fuck toy, please, Daddy, please fuck me like a bitch in heat, I want you, I need it, I’m so empty, Daddy, please.”

He’s still begging by the time Cas’s cock slides against his hole and Cas’s hands clamp down on his hips. Dean cries from relief when Cas’s cock slides into him. He feels whole, he feels seen.

“Thank you, Daddy,” is all he has time to groan out before Cas moves.

Cas fucks him for real, face down and ass up. Dean holds himself open as Cas’s cock pounds in and out. Cas’s hips smack against Dean’s ass and hands, and he’s flying. It’s so good. When Cas wrenches him up, back against chest, Dean goes willingly. He clamps his hands around Cas’s arm, then shouts when Cas’s hand closes around his cock.

“Come on,” Cas grunts. “I want you tight on my cock. Come, boy.”

Cas’s fingers shove into his mouth, thick and long and Dean gags and sucks and gags and sucks and then he’s coming, electricity zapping through his entire body from where Cas ruthlessly pounds into him.

The world goes white and hazy after that. Cas drops him onto the bed and keeps pounding into him, making Dean cry with the intensity. When Cas comes, he shudders and shakes and drops straight down on top of Dean, squashing him against the bed.

They come down together, panting and sweating. Cas pulls off after a moment, reaches for something and then wipes off Dean’s ass.

“M’in’th’we’spo’,” Dean mutters, unable to move.

Cas snorts. “Your own fault.”

He does gather Dean up though, moves him around until they’re under the covers, Dean’s head on his pillow and Cas curled in close behind him.

“D’you mean it?” Dean murmurs, right before he falls asleep. “Ab't being yours?”

Cas groans against his neck. “If I say yes, will you go the fuck to sleep?”

Dean hums.

“Yes, I meant it,” Cas mutters. “Now shut up.”

“Okay,” Dean sighs happily. “G’night, Daddy.”

Turns out, sometimes sleeping in the wet spot is the start of something beautiful.


	7. Chapter 7

The day Dean realises he’s hopelessly in love with Cas happens not even three weeks after Cas had joined him at Bobby’s. Cas had texted him,

_I think I’m dying_

and

_My life is a lie. Chicken soup doesn’t help >:( _

and Dean shows up at Cas’s apartment with a bag in his hand.

“Dean?” Cas croaks as he opens the door.

He’s wearing a cardigan over striped pyjamas, his eyes are red and his voice sounds like he went three rounds with a cheese grater. Dean steps forward and Cas steps back automatically. He frowns slightly.

“What are you doing here?”

“You said chicken soup didn’t help,” Dean says, and raises his bag. “I’m making tomato rice soup.”

“I’ll give you the plague!” Cas objects, and then he digs out a tissue from his sleeve like a dork and blows his nose.

Dean loves him so much it hurts.

“Shoo!” He says, but he means _I love you, I love you, I don’t know what to do with that_. “Back to your nest.”

Cas groans, but retreats to the couch where he does, indeed, seem to have built himself a nest from blankets and tissues.

Dean makes tomato rice soup. He forces Cas to take Advil and a shower, and to eat a little soup. Cas runs out of what little steam he had halfway, so Dean ends up more or less spoon feeding him. He changes Cas’s sheets, then leads the man into bed, propping him up on a bunch of pillows so his nose won’t get stuffed while he sleeps.

“I like you,” Cas mutters as he closes his eyes. “M’keepin’ you.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Dean says.

Cas sighs, a small, happy noise. Dean stays until Cas falls asleep, then he returns to the kitchen to put the soup away. He makes a note to buy more tissues, ice cream, and juice. Then he stands in the doorway of Cas’s bedroom and looks at the sleeping man. Cas’s nose is clogged and he’s snoring, mouth open to manage to breathe. Dean slides into bed next to him.

He gets the plague a few days later, which isn’t any kind of cute or sexy. Cas tries feeding him chicken soup from a can, and Dean agrees the soup is a lie. He makes Cas thaw the tomato rice soup from the freezer, then passes the fuck out.

Six months later, a house at the edge of town goes on sale.


	8. Chapter 8

Dean buys a ring on a Thursday, because that feels appropriate. It’s titanium, sleek and discreet, but strong. It weighs next to nothing, but it’s burning a hole in his pocket and he’s so excited, he can barely contain himself.

That’s why he fucks up.

Dean slinks in the door on Friday evening, avoids looking at the living room and hurries upstairs. He undresses before he opens the bedroom closet, where he grabs Cas’s belt. He takes it between his teeth and crawls back downstairs to Cas. Cas is sitting in the living room, feet propped on the coffee table and TV remote in his hand. Quietly, Dean settles near his right foot, kneeling back and taking the belt in both hands before offering it up to Cas.

Cas ignores him.

Time passes and Dean’s arms shake as he stares at Cas’s knee, the belt lifted above his head.

“What’s this?” Cas asks, muting a Tide commercial.

“Your belt,” Dean whispers, “so that you can punish me.”

“Why would I?”

The question stuns Dean, and he clears his throat.

“I broke the rules,” he answers.

“And?”

“When I break the rules, you punish me,” Dean says, confused, lowering his hands into his lap.

Fear curls in his stomach, goosebumps on his body, breath shallow. He can’t look up. This is what they do. If Dean breaks a rule, Cas punishes him. Cas has never refused to punish him before.

“Why do I do that?”

“Because you love me.” Dean’s voice breaks.

“I don’t think you should be this familiar, boy. Try again.”

Dean clears his throat, though his eyes burn. “When I break the rules, Daddy punishes me, because Daddy loves me.”

The title never gets any easier to say. It makes him feel small, powerless. It’s embarrassing. Just saying it makes his cock chub up, like he’s one of Pavlov’s fucking dogs.

“That’s better. What rule did you break?”

It seems so impersonal, when all he can see of Cas are his shoes, slacks and the edge of Cas’s shirt.

“I forgot my phone at home, and then I didn’t come home on time.”

“That’s two rules. Why are those things rules?”

“Because Daddy should always be able to get a hold of me, and I should always be able to call Daddy,” Dean says, and now there’s real tears in his eyes. “If I’m not going to be home on time, I should tell Daddy.”

“Why?”

“Because Daddy loves me,” Dean whispers hoarsely, “and Daddy worries about me.”

“Perhaps you should think about that,” Cas says, but doesn’t move.

Dean nods. “Yes, Daddy.”

The sound on the TV goes back up again. Impulsively, Dean kisses the belt before gently placing it on the floor and crawling over to an empty corner. He grasps his elbows behind his back and leans forward, pressing his nose against the wall.

He thinks about Cas coming home and calling up the stairs for him, even though he would have seen the empty spot where the Impala should have been. He thinks of Cas reaching for his phone, frowning at the lack of messages. He thinks of Cas dialling Dean’s number, and hearing Dean’s phone go off in the kitchen where he’d forgotten it this morning.

It doesn’t take long at all before Dean’s crying, tears silently streaming down his cheeks.

Cas doesn’t tell him to come out of the corner.

He stays there until his nose is clogged and his shoulders hurt, fingers cramp and his knees scream in pain. Then he crawls back to Cas, pathetically wiping his cheeks as he goes.

When he’s back in his spot by Cas’s right knee, he stops, and waits.

“Did you think about it?” Cas asks, when he’s muted another commercial.

“Yes, Daddy,” Dean says, snivelling. “I’m so sorry, Daddy, you must have been so worried.”

“I was,” Cas says, and those words are enough to feel like Dean’s being crushed from the inside.

He hangs his head, and begs, sobbing. “Please punish me, Daddy. Please, please make it hurt, make it really hurt, I won’t do it again, Daddy, I swear.”

“Make it really hurt?”

Dean nods fervently. “I don’t want to forget, Daddy, I want to make sure I remember so I don’t do it again.”

Cas picks up the belt, hefts it and snaps it against his hand.

“With this?” he asks.

Dean hesitates. The belt hurts. Cas can pack a punch like nothing else, and the belt will light him on fire for sure.

“I _—_ ” he hesitates. “Can I pick something else, Daddy?”

There’s a pause, then: “Alright. You have three minutes.”

Dean scrambles up on his feet, ducks out into the kitchen where he finds a utility knife in a drawer. Some part of him is distantly aware that he looks like an idiot; an adult man slipping into his own backyard with red rimmed eyes, padding naked across the lawn until he gets to the hazel in the corner. He finds an appropriate switch, cuts it off, and strips it of leaves as he hurries back.

In the living room, he drops to a crawl, the hazel rod in his mouth, and goes back to Cas’s knee, presenting him with the switch.

“Please use this, Daddy,” he says.

Cas picks it up, swings it through the air a few times. It’s thicker than Cas’s cane, but the fresh hazel has a wicked spring. It’s going to cut deep and bruise bad, Dean knows.

“Are you sure?” Cas asks.

Dean nods hard, eyes still on the floor. “Yes, Daddy.”

“Grab your ankles,” Cas says as he stands.

Dean moves to the middle of the floor, and bends over, hands on his ankles. Cas does love all stress positions, loves seeing Dean fight to stay still, to not fall.

“How late were you?” Cas asks.

“Thirty-six minutes,” Dean answers, because he checked when he stepped in the door at home.

“Three times six,” Cas says and the switch taps Dean’s ass lightly.

The first blow almost makes him topple over. The second tears a scream from his throat, and by the sixth, Dean crumples to the ground, sobbing. His ass isn’t on fire, it’s molten lava and it’s coursing through him from the bottom of his feet to his teeth.

“One,” Cas says. “Up.”

Gritting his teeth, Dean pulls himself up to standing and grabs his ankles. Cas works his way down Dean’s thighs this time, starting at the crease of his ass. On the third strike, Dean stumbles and rights himself. He can barely get air with how hard he’s crying, but he puts himself back in place. As the skin gets thinner, the pain worsens because Cas isn’t hitting any less hard. The last hit, half-way down to Dean’s knees, makes him crash down again. He scratches the carpet as he twitches from the pain, huge sobs wrecking through his entire body.

“Two,” Cas says and taps his side. “Hands on the coffee table.”

It must be some sort of mercy, because Dean is trembling so hard he can barely stand as he puts his hands on the coffee table and bends over.

Cas places the final six strokes right in the crease of Dean’s ass, fast, hard and merciless.

“Three.”

Dean is frozen in place by the time it ends, isn’t quite sure who’s screaming that loudly before he realises it must be him. Cas’s arms wrap around him, pulling him into Cas’s arms where the world is safe and soft.

“I’m so sorry, Daddy,” Dean sobs into his shoulder. “I’m so sorry, I won’t ever do it again, I swear, I swear.”

“Good,” Cas says, and his voice cracks.

Dean jerks his head up and sees tears in Cas’s eyes. He doesn’t have time to say anything, as Cas’s eyes widen and Dean suddenly remembers, ducking his head again. Cas grabs Dean’s chin, forcing him to look up.

“Dean,” he breathes, fingers tracing Dean’s cheekbone.

“It’s nothing.” Dean shrugs.

“It’s not nothing!” Cas barks. “You’ve got a black eye and you didn’t tell me!”

“S’was my fault,” Dean mutters. “I got stupid at work yesterday, forgot my pronouns.”

“What?” Cas frowns.

“You know, Cassie, instead of Cas; she, instead of he. I didn’t think anyone had time to notice, I thought I’d covered it up okay.” He grins slightly. “But hey, I was wrong.”

Cas wrenches away from him, staring. “You’ve been lying at work?” he says, voice hoarse.

Dean frowns at him. “Yeah?”

“I thought you were out!” Cas explodes, gesturing around their house. “Is that why nobody visits us? Why we’re always here?”

Dean can’t look away, because something is clearly really fucking wrong. He reaches for Cas, but Cas bats his hand away.

“No. Red. Stop. Go get dressed. I can’t talk about this while you’re still naked,” Cas says, then stalks into the kitchen. Dean hears the patio door open, then slam shut, and sighs.

Feeling lost, he does what he always does, that is, exactly what Cas told him. He trudges upstairs, pulls on faded jeans and a shirt, then detours into the bathroom where he digs out a small box from behind the hairspray. He opens it, looks at the ring, then looks up into the mirror above the sink.

He looks ill, pale and face swollen from crying, one eye nearly glued shut where it’s gone purple. His head hurts. He looks at the ring again, then snaps the box shut, shoves it back behind the hairspray and turns the tap on. He washes his face quickly, ignores his sore ass, and downs some water and Advil.

He finds Cas in the garden, on his knees next to their lavender, yanking weeds from between the plants.

“I’m sorry,” Dean says, coming to a halt behind Cas.

“No, I _—_ ” Cas sighs and turns, sitting on the grass and wrapping his arms around his knees. “I’m sorry I went off on you. I thought… It doesn’t matter what I thought, I just _—_ ”

“Don’t want to go back in the closet?” Dean guesses.

Cas nods miserably. “I fought so hard to get out of it, Dean. I can’t stand the idea of going back in.”

“I’m not in the closet, sunshine,” Dean says and Cas looks up at the nickname. “That train sailed when I met you, and you’ve meet Bobby and Sam, so I can’t believe you’d think _—_ It’s _—_ ” He sighs and runs a hand through his hair, “If I got to decide, I’d shout it from the fucking rooftops, man. At work though, I gotta keep my head down. There’s too much riding on me having that job, Cas _—_ our house, our future. I don’t care about what some stupid backwater rednecks think about us, heck, I am one, you know I’m useless at all the techie crap. I’m... I’m sorry you thought for a moment that I’d hide you.”

Cas reaches a hand out and Dean hauls him up, even though his own thighs throb dully. Cas’s hands come to rest on his jaw again, thumbs running over Dean’s cheekbones, and then Cas kisses him, chaste and sweet.

“If this is what happens when you mess up some pronouns, I guess I get it,” Cas says. “But Dean, why didn’t you tell me why you were late?”

Dean looks to the side. “Didn’t think it’d matter.”

“Why wouldn’t it matter?” Cas sounds astounded in a way that makes Dean’s chest ache. “I don’t get how you could think _I got assaulted at work_ isn’t reason enough to be late _—_ Dean, just the paperwork must have been _—_ ”

Dean laughs, but it’s hollow. “Paperwork? You think I reported this? Nah, Cas. He was waitin’ by Baby when I came out after checking out. Said _Hey, faggot_ and punched me. Took me a while to get it back together so I could drive home, it’s been a while since I was in a brawl. Dude packed a punch.”

Cas is staring at him. “You didn’t report it? You’re a victim of a hate crime and you didn’t _—_ ”

“Listen!” Dean barks. “It don’t work like that. I’m a contractor, a builder, Cas. I report this to my boss, and it’s gonna be me outta job soon as he can let me go. I go to the police? He’s gonna fire me so quick. Easier to fire the cocksucker than to make fifty guys think it’s alright to take it up the ass. I know how the world’s supposed to work, I know what I oughtta do, but that ain’t gonna help now, is it?”

Cas is pale, but to his credit, he doesn’t say anything.

“Why I didn’t tell you?” Dean laughs again, but it comes out more like a sob. “It never mattered before. _Excuses don’t matter_ , Dad used to say. What matters is that I was late, and I know what the rule is for being late, and I forgot my phone, and I know what the rule is for that too.”

They stand in silence for a while, before Cas clears his throat.

“I’ve failed you,” he says wetly, then shakes his head as Dean opens his mouth. “No, wait, hear me out. I’ve clearly failed you, if you don’t think you can, or should, tell me things. I’ve let you run the show, I’ve done as you’ve asked with the kink and the bondage, because I thought we were both happy with that.”  
  
“And trust me,” he raises his voice when Dean tries to speak, “I have been very, very happy with what we’ve done. I don’t have words for how much you’ve given me, the way you give and give and give, but Dean, I haven’t held up my side of it. My job here is to make you feel safe, is to make sure you can talk to me about everything. Even when I make you feel bad, I want to make you feel _good_ -bad, not _bad_ -bad.”

Warm, strong arms drag Dean close, and Dean clings to Cas’s shirt, far harder than he’d like to admit.

“Don’t ever make me do this to you again,” Cas whispers. “I love you. I don’t want to hurt you.” Dean snorts, and Cas amends, “Not more than you want to be hurt. Speaking of...”

He gently cards his fingers through Dean’s hair.

“What was the switch about?”

Dean shrugs awkwardly. “I dunno.”

Cas hums. “I think you do. You were very sure on what I should use.”

There’s tears in Dean’s eyes again. “Wanted it to hurt,” he mutters into Cas’s collar. “Wanted to make sure I never, ever forgot what a fucking disappointment I am, how much I make you worry. Wanted you to know I never would; wanted you to be able to let go too.”  

Cas stiffens, then pulls back. Dean’s not proud of the sound he makes, this tiny wet whimper in the back of his throat. Cas waits patiently until Dean manages to look up at him.

“I will _never_ ,” Cas says, slowly and clearly, “condone anything John Winchester did, apart from bringing you and your brother into this world. That man was a pathetic waste of space, and the damage he did… Dean, you brought the belt. Then you put yourself in the corner, for far longer than I would have, and you came out crying. Even after that, you begged for something more severe. I have clearly failed far harder than I thought, and I am so, so sorry.”

Quite frankly, Dean doesn’t know what to do with that. He nods blandly and shifts, then winces at his sore muscles. Cas immediately frowns, worried.

“I shouldn’t have let you put on clothes before I checked you over,” he mutters. “Let’s go inside, I'll check you over and we can watch a movie in bed. We can have popcorn for dinner.”

“We’re not repeating the popcorn incident,” Dean objects, and starts up towards the house.

“I thought we didn’t talk about that.”

“We do when some asshole decides to try repeat it!”

“I wasn’t going to repeat it, I just said we could have popcorn for dinner.”

“That’s what you said last time too, and look how that worked out.”

“That scorch mark was already there,” Cas says reasonably, and closes the patio door behind them.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BEWARE: There has been a new tag added. See end notes for description.

Cas finds him in the bathroom two days later, pants around his knees as he’s looking at the mirror over his shoulder to see his own ass. He’s striped blue and purple from his butt cheeks down almost to his knees. Sitting has been very uncomfortable, and they’ve spent a lot of time in bed, talking. 

“I’m sorry,” Cas murmurs behind him. “I know you don’t like pain.”

Dean shrugs, because he’s been thinking about this. “I don’t. I’m no masochist.”

“Maybe we should stop all of this.” Cas is frowning when Dean looks up at him.

“Why?” he asks, stunned. 

“Dean, I beat you black and blue! You got worse from me than from the guy that wanted to hurt you!”

“And?” 

It’s not that Dean doesn’t see what Cas is implying, it’s just that what Cas is implying is absurd. 

“I shouldn’t want to hurt you!” Cas shouts. “I shouldn’t--I can’t believe I--”

Cas spins and stalks out, leaving Dean to hastily pull up his sweatpants in order to follow. He finds Cas on their bed, shoulders slumped and head in his hands. Dean would kneel in front of him, but his ass honestly hurts too much, so he settles to Cas’s right. 

“I’m a monster,” Cas says, muffled and hoarse. “I love you, and I hurt you, and I love hurting you. I get off on it. Dean, you don’t understand,” Cas sniffles, and looks up. “I see you cry and scream, and all I wanna do is ram my cock into you, anywhere I can, whether you want it or not - it’s even better if you don’t. I want to tear you apart. You should run from me.”

Honestly, running is pretty much the last thing Dean wants to do, so he doesn’t. Instead, he settles a hand between Cas’s shoulder blades and rubs gently. Cas wrenches away with an anguished sound. He seems to try want to leave himself, but he only makes it as far as the floor. 

“I love you,” Dean says, quietly. 

“I love you too,” Cas sobs, and Cas never cries, but now his shoulders are shaking hard. “I should leave, save you from me.”

“You should come over here so I can hug you.”

“You’re not listening.” Cas fists his hands in his own hair. “I  _ hurt _ you. I hurt you so bad. I abused you.” The last sentence comes out as a hoarse whisper. “What if I’m still abusing you?”

Cas stares at him, eyes wide and wild. 

“Dean, what if I’m doing the thing where I regret everything and then I’ll do it again, I’ll hurt you again, and it’ll be worse, and I can’t--I can’t-- _ Dean. _ ”

Dean’s heart is in his throat, because Cas seems entirely untethered, his despair so clear it’s as if the entire room smells of it. 

“If that’s the case,” Dean says, “then we’ll figure it out, but right now, I really, really want to give you a hug.” He reaches out one hand, slowly so he doesn’t spook Cas. “If what you’re saying is true, it’ll be true tomorrow too, and we’ll make calls and set up therapy and if they recommend I move out, I’ll move out, I swear. I won’t keep you if you want to go, but I would like it if I could have a hug before you do.”

Eyes still wide and brimming with tears, Cas’s own hand comes up, trembling like an aspen leaf in September. Dean tracks it, sees the path of it slowly moving through the air to connect with his own. The next minute, there’s a flurry of motion, and,

“Oof,” Dean grunts,

because Cas has thrown himself info Dean’s lap, wrapping his arms around Dean’s waist as he buries his face against Dean’s thigh and cries. 

It takes a long, long while, before Cas calms. Dean strokes his hair and rubs at his shoulders, waiting for the storm to pass. At long last, Cas breathing evens out, and Dean scratches his scalp gently in slow, even circles. 

“Listen to me, sunshine,” he murmurs to the mop of dark hair in his lap. “I love you. I know that ain’t much right now, but I do. If you wanna ask an expert, we will, and we’ll do whatever they say, but right now it’s Sunday. Therapists take weekends too. The motel is half an hour away, and you’re in no position to drive, and neither am I. Can you stay with me while I make us something to eat? I know that isn’t what you feel like doing, but I can make sandwiches or something.”

“Soup,” says the mop, and doesn’t move. 

“Soup it is,” Dean agrees, “and some grilled cheese.”

“M‘kay.”

“Baby,” Dean says, and hesitates. “Later, we’re gonna talk about what to do if you drop, okay? I’m not saying this has to be a drop, or that you don’t have valid points, but if it is, we can learn from it and make different choices in the future.”

It takes a while, before the mop in his lap nods, and apparently rediscovers its arms, because Cas squeezes him tight for a moment before letting him go. 

“Soup,” he mutters. “Water and salt and carbohydrates, and grilled cheese for fat and protein.”

“Yeah,” Dean nods. “Wanna let me up so I can make some?”

“No.”

Dean huffs a little and shifts his sore ass, before and puts his hand back in Cas’s hair. “Alright. In a bit then.”

They decide later that Cas dropping makes him the greatest drama queen. Cas decides that the best way to handle it is to name it Drama Drop, and create an elaborate backstory of swooning over couches and sobbing on the floor in huge skirts that makes Dean’s stomach hurt from laughter. 

The day after, Cas hands him the enema bulb over dinner, which makes Dean say “Jesus Christ”, and stare at him. Cas shrugs. 

“I should probably wait,” he says, “but I don’t intend to hurt you like this for a long, long time, and you’re still purple and I've always wanted to rim your ass when it’s purple.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drop: Cas drops, and he drops hard.


	10. Chapter 10

“Why do you let me do this to you?” Cas asks, as he strips Dean of his jeans and palms the green-yellow bruises.

“Dude, now?” Dean groans, because he had an awesome thing going here that included his dick against Cas’s dick, and now there’s a delay.

Cas hums against his lips then spins him around. It’s been a week and the bruises are fading slowly, but Cas can’t seem to stop wanting to stroke and fondle them, or potentially he’s just that obsessed with Dean’s ass, which also seems likely. Right now, he’s petting the marks, spreading Dean’s cheeks, then pushing them together again. Hey, maybe Dean can convince him that rimming should be on the agenda for tonight. God knows Dean’s gotten rimmed within an inch of his life more than once this week.

It’s awesome, he’d like to do it again.

“I don’t like the pain,” Dean says, slightly out of breath, “but I like not liking it. I like giving it to you. I like seeing you get off on hurting me, on the bruises and marks. I like the way it makes me feel after. I like knowing I made you happy. I like sacrificing myself for your pleasure.”

Cas patts his ass and Dean climbs up on the bed, going down on his elbows.

“What else?” Cas asks from behind him.

“I like not having any control. I like not knowing what’s going to happen. I like being scared - not _of you_ , but of the unknown, of what’s going to happen next and if it’s going to hurt or if it’s going to be embarrassing.”

“Embarrassing?” Cas prompts and there’s rustling.

“Seriously?” Dean hides his face in the sheets, then draws a breath. “I love it when you embarrass me, when you make me feel like I’m nothing, when you make me feel worthless and”--he’s struggling for air now--“when you use me. I jerk off to that stuff.”

“Do you?” Cas’s voice is dark.

“No no!” Dean squeaks. “Not anymore! I mean, I used to, uh, before.”

“Mhm. How about you tell me one of your worst fantasies?” Cas says.

“Are you going to touch me?”

“Maybe. Are you going to be good?”

“Yeah,” Dean whispers. “I’ll be good.”

“Then I’m going to stand here and watch you, face down and ass up, begging me for it, telling me all of your dirty secrets.”

“Oh god,” Dean whimpers. “Um. I don’t know where to start. Uh, there’s the human pet one, that one’s good. It’s like, you don’t care about who I am, you care about my body and what I can do with it, and you treat me like a pet. Make me sleep in a cage or on the floor by your bed, eat on the floor--and you don’t let me wear clothes, except sometimes this ugly sack, or, um, panties when you want to fuck a girl. Sometimes you tell me I have the wrong parts, and then you shame me for that. You’ll stretch my ass open and fist me and then fuck me when I’m wet and swollen and gaping.”

Cas’s breathing is deep and unsteady behind him, and Dean tries to draw confidence from that, even as his own cock is throbbing.

“I think about you hurting me,” he whispers. “I think about you threatening to pull my teeth out so I can suck cock better, or beating me because you like my screams, or slapping my face until I cry just ‘cause you like me sobbing around your dick. I think about you putting a shock collar on my neck and hurting me until I scream and then just let it shock me over and over until I go mute. I think about looking up at you while you choke me until I pass out, and then waking up to you fucking me, only for you to choke me out again because you want me limp.”

Cas draws a sharp breath behind him, and Dean turns his head to look back. Cas’s eyes are wide and he’s got a hand on his cock, staring at Dean like he’s never seen him before.

“I dream about you catching me jerking off,” Dean says, looking straight into Cas’s eyes. “You make me come over and over and over again until it hurts so bad, and then you wait just enough that I can come again, and you wait again, until you’ve drained me dry so many times I’m screaming when you touch me.”

“Jesus Christ,” Cas chokes out, his hand flying faster.

“I dream about you keeping me in a cage in the dark for weeks, only pulling me out when you want to fuck me. Maybe in a box beneath the bed, so that I can actually be your fuck toy, and Cas, if you don’t get your cock in me soon, I’m actually going to die.”

Cas makes an ugly sound and tears his hand away, clambering onto the bed and shoving Dean down. Dean passes him the lube, frantic now, but instead of fingers in his ass, a slick hand wraps around his cock.

“Keep talking,” Cas grunts.

“I think about you taking me for walks,” Dean gasps. “Hands cuffed behind my back and my cock in a tiny cage, and you’ve got this dainty chain and you’re leading me around by my cock where anyone could see.” He’s fucking into Cas’s hand now, “I think about you tattooing your name into my ass, or maybe burning it in, god that would hurt, it’d hurt for so long, but I’d be yours, I’m always yours, Cas, god, I can’t.”

“Come,” Cas mutters, and Dean does, the world going white and fantastic around him and he spurts into the sheets and writhes as Cas keeps touching him, slips lubed fingers into his ass and rubs his prostate and the tip of his cock in a way that’s too much, far too much, painful and awful and glorious, and exactly what he wants.

Cas doesn’t relent, keeps him writhing until he’s crying, and then pushes inside him in one long, slick thrust that has Dean sobbing against the sheets. He pushes his thighs together and tilts his ass up, and Cas puts one hand on his neck and uses the knuckles of his other hand to grind against where the bruises are still sore. He ruts in fast and hard, and in no time, he’s shuddering and coming into Dean.

After clean-up, Cas gathers him close and cards his fingers through Dean’s short hair.

“Do you mean all that?” Cas says, hesitant and awed.

“Yeah,” Dean breathes against Cas’s collarbone, rubs his nose there and kisses Cas’s sweaty skin. “Cause I hate it, but I really love hating it. I love giving into it, I love having you make me, I love having you force me to love it. I love knowing that after all of it, you’ll pick me up and put me back together again. You’ll kiss me and hold me, and love me, and I know you see me. You see that entire messy darkness, and it don’t scare you.”

“No,” Cas says. “It don’t scare me.”

“Good,” Dean says, and makes a tiny content noise in the back of his throat that only Cas has ever heard, before relaxing into sleep.


	11. Chapter 11

The shower is awesome, because Cas is awesome and insisted they get the house with the fantastic water pressure. Dean hums to himself as he lathers up his hair, ghosts hands over his chest and--

“The internet has informed me that consensual non-consent exists,” Cas says outside the shower curtain, which makes Dean shriek as he rips it aside, wielding a shampoo bottle.

Cas blinks owlishly at him from the floor, where he’s sitting with his laptop on the bathroom mat.

“Did I scare you?” he ask.

“Yes, Jesus fuck,” Dean pants like any sane person would after getting attacked in the shower. “How long have you been there?! Since when is this a thing you do?”

“Oh uh, I came in a little while ago.” Cas shrugs awkwardly. “I was googling and I wanted to talk to you.”

“Nothing good ever comes out of you googling stuff,” Dean mutters, ducking back in because now he has shampoo in his eye too. Gosh darn it. “Lay it on me, sweetcheeks,” he calls over his shoulder when Cas goes quiet.

“Consensual non-consent,” Cas says in his ear and Dean inhales water.

It doesn’t work very well, turns out water isn’t breathable. He glares at Cas as he coughs, noting the twinkle in Cas’s eye.

“It means,” Cas continues, “that I get to do whatever I want, within our limits, even if you don’t agree with it at the time or tell me to stop or say no. As long as you don’t safeword - and you can always safeword - I’m allowed to do whatever I want to you.”

Now Dean’s breathless for entirely different reasons, and he nods dumbly, shuffling aside when Cas nudges him.

“I still think therapy is a good idea,” Cas says after wetting his hair.

“Wait, what?”

“Therapy, it’s a good idea,” Cas repeats, uncapping his shampoo bottle.

“But you--” Dean flails. “But I--”

Cas hums. “I don’t know if there’s any gay friendly therapists around here, and I was reading up on abuse cases, and they say the abuser and the survivor shouldn’t go to therapy together, so I was thinking we’d go individually. Maybe ten times? I think my insurance might cover that, I don’t know. I’ll look into it.”

There’s _way_ too much going on here for Dean to process it, above all because Cas is now rubbing the shampoo lather into his chest and down his stomach like some sort of heathen, and Dean just cannot cope.

It’s step out or go to his knees, and they don’t really have time for blowjobs, so Dean steps out.

“Alright,” he says, reaching for his towel. “Whatever will make you feel better.”

***

He regrets everything and Cas is a devious, manipulative son of a bitch. This waiting room sucks and therapy sucks and everything is awful.

“Mr Winchester,” a voice drawls near him. “Come on, chop chop.”

Dean follows the short, stocky man into an office and then sits on the chair he’s pointed into.

“So, tell me about your daddy issues,” the man says.

“I’m sorry?” Dean says, hackles rising.

He narrows his eyes at the other man.

“Oh right. Hello, I’m Crowley, I’ll be your therapist. This is a safe space, nothing you say will leave this room, unless I determine you’re actively seeking to harm yourself,” the man, Crowley, drones out, and crosses his legs. “Now, please tell me about your daddy issues. What was his poison?”

“My what now? Listen, buddy, I don’t know what information you have, but I don’t have any daddy issues.” He’s glaring at his therapist and he’d walk out, but Cas made him promise he’d sit through at least one session.

Crowley rolls his eyes. “Leather jacket, the way you walk, the way you respond to authority--it all screams daddy issues to me, but if you would like to bullshit your way through this, then I’ll get paid anyway.” A serene smile appears on his face. “Please, go on, tell me why you’ve sought me out, Mr Winchester.”

Dean groans. Goddamnit, the man is obnoxious and vile, and Dean hates his guts. Fine. Whatever. One session, right?

So he does exactly what he’d decided not to.

He tells Crowley everything.

***

“How’d therapy go?” Cas asks, arms winding around Dean’s waist.

Dean relaxes back against him and gets a kiss on the ear for it.

“It went,” he says, stirring the pot on the stove.

“Good? Bad?”

Dean shrugs a shoulder. “Dunno yet.”

Which is true. After, he’d sat in his car for about ten minutes just staring into nothing, trying to understand what just happened. Then, he’d come to the conclusion he wasn’t going to, and driven himself home.

“What about you?” he asks Cas.

Cas hums, pressing himself closer and hooking his chin over Dean’s shoulder.

“Cain’s alright,” he answers. “We mostly talked about bees.”

“Really?”

“It took me thirty minutes to figure out it wasn’t a metaphor,” Cas admits.

“Dude, you’re so bad at that. How about you metaphor us plates and cutlery?”

The sigh Cas heaves as he tears himself away makes Dean grin. Yeah. A cuddly Cas is a good Cas. He bets Cas is going to sleep all across him too, plastering himself onto Dean until their skin sticks together and Dean wakes up feeling like he’s being crushed under Cas’s weight. It’s pretty damn awesome.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BEWARE: New tags have been added. See end notes for details if you need them.

“Well, the way I see it,” Crowley drawls because he’s incapable of not drawling, the smug bastard. “If you want it, and he wants it, and you’re not actually scared of him--”   
  
Dean snorts. “He’s about as dangerous as a fly. Actually, I once saw him tearing up over a dead bee, because he hadn’t found it and let it outside in time.”

“Yes, yes,” Crowley waves his hand. “You’re in schmoopy puppy love. I get it. I don’t see what the issue is. Are you being safe?”

“Yeah,” Dean nods. “There’s always scissors and shit for the bondage, and he has a baby monitor if he needs to leave me alone.”

“I don’t see the problem,” Crowley shrugs. “Consenting adults can do whatever the fuck they want, what do I care.”

“That’s what I thought,” Dean says smugly.

“Now that we’ve established that, let’s return to how you feel like your father abandoned you.”

“I hate you.”

“Noted.”

***

Dean brings it up on Saturday, when they’re in bed reading. 

“Crowley says we’re consenting adults and can make our own rules,” he says casually, as though his heart isn’t beating in his throat. 

“Crowley says a lot of things,” Cas mutters. 

Dean frowns at him. “Dude. What?”

Cas sighs in frustration. “You talk about him a lot”

“Yeah,” Dean says. “I do.”

“I’m… finding it hard to cope,” Cas admits, grudgingly, and puts his Kindle aside.

“Ohmygod,” Dean says. “You’re jealous.”

“Maybe.” That’s totally a pout now.

“No, seriously, you’re jealous of the guy I see once a week!” He’s grinning now. Cas is propped up against the headboard, and Dean clambers into Cas’s lap. “You know, the guy who told me our love is schmoopy, because I can’t stop talking about how awesome you are.”

“Really?” Cas looks hopeful.

“Yeah,” Dean breathes against his lips. “Apparently, I’m disgustingly in love with you.”

They kiss, soft presses of lips against lips, breathing each other’s air. 

“I’m fairly disgustingly in love with you too,” Cas says, and his nose scrunches up as he grins. 

“Cool,” Dean says, breathless. “Mind if I sit on your dick and let you hurt me?”

“By all means,” Cas says, eyes glinting coldly. 

They kiss some more, Dean grinding down on Cas to let their cocks slide together through the duvet, until Dean grows frustrated with the dull, muted contact. He wriggles his way beneath the covers, sighing as he can finally smooth a hand down Cas’s stomach, rubbing over his crotch. It makes Cas gasp against his lips, so Dean does it again, and again, until all he wants is Cas’s cock in his hand.

He strips them both, then looks down and impulsively leans down and chokes himself of Cas’s cock. It’s thick and heavy in his mouth, the head lodged firmly in his throat. With Cas’s hands suddenly fisted tight into his hair as Cas rolls his hips, it’s pretty damn perfect. 

“Here,” Cas says and presses him down until he can’t breathe, then shoves the lube into his hand. “Open yourself up for me.”

Coordination isn’t Dean’s greatest strength when he’s having his mouth fucked, but he manages to slick his fingers and slide one inside himself. It makes him groan around Cas’s cock, suck hard on the tip as Cas pulls out, then thrusts back in. 

“You better do a good job,” there’s a barely detectable tremor in his voice, but Dean hears it and presses that little bit further down on the next thrust. “God, your mouth. Come on, be a good fuck toy and get yourself wet. That’s all the prep you’re getting.”

Dean jams another finger into himself at that, his own cock throbbing at the thought. The angle is all wrong for him to try reach his prostate, but he fucks himself in time with Cas’s slow, deep thrusts. After a moment, he manages to add another finger and more lube, and he’d wince at the stretch but he’s staring up at Cas who has him shoved as far down as he can before pinching his nose shut. For a moment, there’s breathless clarity and connection, then Dean’s body convulses around Cas’s cock as he tries to cough. Cas pins him down with his legs, head thrown back as he groans.

When he lets Dean go, Dean’s head is swimming. He coughs and heaves, but scurries up as Cas pulls his hair. He’s barely caught his breath when the tip of Cas’s cock rubs against his ass, then slides inside in a slow drag of too much, too full. He’s panting and writhing as he’s finally seated. Cas rocks gently inside him.

“Look at you,” Cas murmurs. “So pretty.”

Dean blushes.

“I can’t wait to make you cry. Do you want to cry for me?”

“Yeah,” Dean breathes, then yelps as Cas pinches his side, hard. “Yes! Yes, Daddy!”

He stares as Cas dribbles lube over his hand, then slides it tight and firm around Dean’s cock, making Dean groan. 

“There you go. I think we’re going to play a game, baby, do you like games?”

“Uh-huh,” Dean whines, because God, Cas is touching him just right. 

“Good. Come on, baby. Show me how good that feels.”

Dean throws his head back and groans, rocking between Cas’s cock and his hand. Goosebumps break out all over his skin as Cas rubs a gentle, slick thumb against that sensitive spot beneath the head of his cock, then returns to jacking him slow and steady with a twist around the head. In no time, Dean’s panting, aching, starting to tense as heat coils in his stomach, at the base of his spine. He can’t stop the small moans falling from his lips as he inches closer and closer to orgasm. 

Cas’s hand rips away at the last minute and merciless fingers clamp down on his nipples, twisting, nails biting in and Dean shouts, wrapping his hands around Cas’s wrists. 

“Hands behind your back,” Cas orders, stern. 

Dean forces himself to let go, and grasp his own wrist. Cas lets go of his nipples which makes Dean sag for a second until Cas’s grip returns, thumbs mashing the sensitive buds against the knuckle on Cas’s forefinger, grinding. 

“You feel so good on my cock when I hurt you,” Cas coos at him. 

By the time Cas releases his nipples, they’re sore and Dean’s shuddering. Cas’s hand wraps around his softening cock, strokes it back to hardness, and Dean feels helpless as he looks down. He can see the tip of his cock disappearing in and out of Cas’s fist, and even as he starts rocking back at Cas’s cock again, the pleasure feels awful and wonderful and he knows what’s coming, tries to hunch in on himself as it builds. 

The pain shoots straight through him when Cas clamps down on his nipples again, pinching hard and twisting, pulling at them until Dean has to lean forward. He bites his lip in trying not to scream, but it comes out like a keen anyway. Cas bends his head and nips at his nipples, making Dean writhe, before attaching himself to the left one. He bites at it, before sucking hard at the abused flesh. Dean’s got tears in his eyes by the time Cas lets go, panting having turned into dry sobs. 

“Gorgeous,” Cas says. “Another one now.”

Dean shakes his head miserably, but the hand closes around his cock and then Dean is groaning as he hardens again. He feels lopsided, his left nipple throbbing and swollen, while the right one is plain sore. Cas thrusts up into him, gentle as you please, making Dean shift in little figures of eights.

This time when he gets close, he begs. 

“Please, please, don’t stop, don’t stop, please Daddy, can I come?” 

Cas hums thoughtfully and for just a second, Dean thinks it worked because he’s so close, so clos--and then he screams, trying to wrench away from the teeth on his right nipple, but Cas doesn’t let go and tears roll down his cheeks as he sobs miserably, fighting the pain. Cas lets go, but only for a moment, before sucking as hard as he can. 

When Cas lets go, Dean’s crying, small sobs and hiccups. He’s going crazy between the pain and the pleasure, shivering violently. Cas’s hand on his cock makes him shake his head. 

“No, no, no, please don’t, please don’t, Daddy, I can’t,” he manages. 

Cas smiles and keeps going, fingers rubbing circles on the head of Dean’s cock and he’s so sensitive, his skin is too tight and he’s going to explode, he can’t do this again. Cas’s cock is hard as rock inside him. Cas makes him fuck himself between it and his hand. 

“So desperate,” he notes. “Can’t tell if you want me to stop or keep going, can you, boy?”

Dean shakes his head and sobs. 

“You’re so pretty when you cry on my cock. Such a good fuck toy. You’re going to come on it, aren’t you?”

He can’t answer through the tears, the quick build of fire in the pit of his stomach. He knows it’s coming, but even as he’s just about to tip over, the pain is shocking as it courses through him. He screams and sobs while Cas pinches, twists, grinds his nipples into his knuckles, digs his short nails in and drags them off and it hurts so bad, it takes him a while to feel Cas’s hand on his cheek. 

Dean forces his eyes open, looks at Cas through his tears, chokes and shudders as the hand returns to his cock. Cas’s hand feels so good, and so awful, and Dean hates how easy it is for Cas to touch him just right. Cas plays him like a wind-up toy, coiling him tighter and tighter. 

“I’ll let you come this time,” Cas says, and he’s out of breath now too. 

Relief courses through Dean and he nods fervently. “Thank you, Daddy.”

Cas releases his cock and his right hand, large and strong, covers Dean’s mouth and pinches his nose close. Dean’s eyes widen and tears run down his cheeks, lube smearing all over his face. Feather light pressure rubs against the sensitive spot beneath the head of his cock and Dean wants to whine, but he can’t breathe. 

“All you’re getting are my fingertips. You’re either going to come, or you’re going to pass out,” Cas grunts, shoving himself deeper into Dean. “Your choice.”

Desperate, Dean fucks himself against that light pressure on his cock, against Cas’s thrusts. Pressure builds inside him and he wants to breathe, his lungs ache and he’s trying to cough but he can’t and it’s not enough, not enough. The build of orgasm is terrible as he struggles for air, for more touch on his cock. 

When he comes, it’s a silent explosion. It goes on forever and ever, wrecking through him. Cas thrusting against his prostate makes new waves shudder through him, and black spots dance in his vision. Then there’s air, and that’s amazing, and he coughs and sucks it in greedily as orgasm continues to wreck him, pulsing out of his cock. He’s leaning forward, hands on Cas’s shoulders, Cas’s hands on his ass as he fucks Dean mercilessly while Dean coughs and splutters. Shoving Dean down one last time, Cas groans deep and loud as he comes, grinding his hips against Dean’s ass. 

Dean sags against him, limp and fucked out, letting his tears smear over Cas’s shoulder and collarbone. Warm, firm arms wrap around him as he cries, even as Cas slips out of him. 

“Dude, gross,” Dean mutters and ew, his lips taste like lube. 

“Shower?”

Dean nods, but doesn’t move. Neither does Cas. 

That’s alright. They’ve got time. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Breathplay: For a while, Dean can't breathe. (Smothering, no choking.)  
> Orgasm delay/denial and edging: Cas controls Dean's orgasms.


	13. Chapter 13

It takes eight weeks before Dean explodes. 

“It’s like you don’t even care!” he shouts in Cas’s face. “I’ve been late six times, and you’ve shrugged your shoulders like it don’t matter!”

Cas stares passively at him and on some level, Dean’s sure he’s going to regret this, that Cas is going to explode right back at him and he’s going to be in so much pain after. He can’t stop himself though, once the fire’s been lit, it consumes him. 

“Do you really feel that?” Cas asks, mildly. 

“I’ve been late, and I’ve been rude, and you do nothing but ask me if I feel I don’t matter? Fuck you, Cas. Seriously. Fuck. You. Fuck you and your stupid fucking rules. Imma break every fucking last one - if you don’t care, why the fuck should I?”

He spins on his heel, reeling, heading up the stairs where he flings himself into the middle of the bed, yanks his pants open and takes himself in hand. They don’t have many rules, so there’s not many left for him to break, but this is the big one. Furious, he wrings pleasure out of himself, gets himself hard, his fist flying dry and fast over his cock. 

Somewhere in the background, there are steps on the carpet, but he turns his head away and keeps going, adds his hips to it. It’s dry and awful and good and terrible and tears sting his eyes as he gets closer. Then he shudders through what must be the most unsatisfying orgasm he’s ever had, curls up on his side with his back to the door, and sobs. The tears are hot on his cheeks, and he presses his hand to his mouth to muffle the sound. 

The bed dips behind him, then a hand settles between his shoulder blades and he flinches away. He doesn’t deserve comfort, not after what he’s done, doesn’t deserve anything. The hand returns anyway, presses in and rubs gently. After a while, it migrates to his shoulder, pulls gently at it, and Dean follows helplessly until he’s pressed againt Cas’s chest, Cas’s arms around him. 

He clings. There’s no other word for it; his face presses in against Cas’s collarbone, his arm wraps around Cas, fist tightening in the back of Cas’s button down, even his leg somehow migrates to sling over Cas’s. The cotton beneath his cheek gets wet fast, until his eyes and head hurt, his nose so clogged he can’t breathe through it. 

The hand rubbing his back never stops. 

“Better?” Cas asks, sometime after Dean’s finally worn himself out. 

Dean nods mutely. 

“I’m sorry,” Cas whispers. “I didn’t understand.”

“I need you, man,” Dean says quietly, voice thick. “I need you to care enough to punish me. I need you to set the rules and make me follow them. I know that’s juvenile and dumb, I know I shouldn’t, but I do anyway.”

“Alright,” Cas says. “I can do that. I want to do that. It’s not that I don’t care, Dean, I do. Very much. I was so scared that you didn’t want that, that I was hurting you for real.”

“No,” Dean shakes his head. “I mean, yeah, it fucking hurts and I hate that, but I need you to see me. I need to know when I fuck up, and I need to know when I’m forgiven.”

“Do you need it now?” 

Dean pauses for a while, because he doesn’t want to, but… “Yeah.”

“Okay,” Cas agrees. “One condition though: You will never again choose the punishment. If you feel you need punishment, you will come to me and confess before begging for it, but you will not, ever, pick an implement or a method. Clear?”

Dean swallows. “Clear.”

“Good. Now, I’m going to go pick something, and when I come back, you’ll have stripped your pants and knelt on the bed.”

“Yes, Daddy,” Dean says and kisses the wet spot he’s left on Cas’s shoulder, before rolling off him. He strips his pants and boxers, carefully avoiding looking up at the closet, then kneels on the bed. He’s tense now, nervous and scared of the pain, but something inside him has settled all the same. 

“All fours, over here,” Cas points at a spot and Dean crawls over, noting the leather strap in Cas’s hand before turning his back and pressing his face into a pillow. 

“You’ve been rude and disrespectful,” Cas tells him, “and you’ve broken every single rule we have, including touching yourself. I think you thought I’d be angry. I’m not, Dean, I’m disappointed. You could have talked to me, and you didn’t, choosing to provoke me at every turn.”

Dean whimpers into the pillow.

The first touch is Cas’s hand, smoothing over his ass and then drawing back. He gets ten swats, quick and perfunctory, barely enough to warm the skin. Cas cracks the strap against something, and Dean nearly jumps out of his own skin, but then it’s searing him. It’s hot, sharp pain, licking over his ass and spreading into a dull throb. Cas hits hard and fast, leaving Dean gasping for air, writhing under the strap until a pause makes him sag down and start crying again. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he sobs. “I’m sorry, Daddy.”

The strap falls again, merciless. It licks its way down to the crease under his ass, where Cas fires of a dozen hard smacks before continuing down to the tops of his thighs. Dean’s entire ass is on fire by the time Cas lays his last stripes, right under his ass, the hardest ones yet. Dean screams into his pillow, kicks his legs as he struggles to breathe through the pain. 

He gets tears and snot all over Cas’s  _ other _ shoulder this time, but Cas is holding him tight so it must be okay. 

“I got you, baby,” Cas mutters into his hair. “We’re okay now.”

That makes Dean cry a little bit more, but for entirely different reasons. 

“If you think you’re going to be allowed to come any time soon, I suggest you think again,” Cas continues darkly. “You’ve been grounded.”

Well. Fuck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For twinsie, who thought I should sleep. HAHA. No.


	14. Chapter 14

Dean knows things are heading for the better when he’s napping on the couch and wakes up from tumbling to the floor. 

“Pet,” Cas says from above him, drawing the word out into a warning. “What have we said about pets on the furniture?”

Abso-fucking-lutely nothing, but Dean’s so fucking on board with whateverthfuck this is that he’s already heading out of the harbour. 

“No pets on the furniture,” Dean says, coming up to a kneel and pressing his forehead against the floor. “I’m sorry.”

Cas heaves an irritated sigh. “Sorry. You’re sorry.” He sounds unimpressed. “You were sleeping on the furniture and you were dressed. I think you need some corner time.”

“Yes, Daddy,” Dean says and tears his clothes off.

Cas drags him by the hair into the corner, grinds his nose in there and Dean whimpers as he clasps his elbows behind his back. 

“Don’t move,” Cas says. “Don’t even think about moving. All you’re going to think about is ungrateful pets lounging about on the furniture, wearing clothes, as though they think they’re people.”

The thing about keeping his nose pressed against the corner, is that it’s really awkward. He didn’t manage to get his socks off either, so he’s still wearing one. Well, one and a half, the other one is limply hanging over half his foot. He’s leaning so far forward, his ass is on display and his knees are going to be sore in no time. 

He thinks about human pets. He thinks about not being allowed on the furniture, about eating from a bowl on the floor, about not being allowed to wear clothes. He thinks about being used for sex and chores. He thinks about the constant humiliation that comes with needing to beg for everything. 

His dick pokes the wall in front of him and Dean shudders.

Of course this is getting him hard. Cas is going to drag him out of the corner and see his hard cock, and oh God, Cas is going to get it, get how this makes his heart beat fast and his breathing stutter. 

He whimpers to himself, feeling the blush on his cheeks, the humiliation in his chest.

“Come here,” Cas says behind him, and Dean turns stiffly, going down on all fours as he crawls to where Cas is standing, cock throbbing between his legs.

Whining, he bends and rubs his cheek against Cas’s shoe. 

“So?” Cas asks, “Do you really think you’re people?”

“No,” Dean answers. “No, Daddy, pets aren’t real people and I’m a pet, I’m yours to do with as you want.”

Saying it makes goosebumps break out all over his skin and he shivers. 

“That’s right,” Cas hums. “Perhaps I’ve been too lenient with you… turn around and show me your hole.”

Dean turns, presses his cheek against the floor and reaches back, spreading his cheeks. 

“Tilt,” Cas demands.

He spreads his knees slightly wider, tries to press his chest against the floor to tilt his ass up more. 

A shoe prods at his balls, then his cock. Dean’s not sure he could possibly go redder. 

“What’s that? Your little dick hard? You must have really needed a reminder of your place, pet. Look at it, you’re going to start dripping on the floor soon, aren’t you? Disgusting. This is why you’re a pet, isn’t it? You just can’t control yourself. Don’t worry, pet. I’ll be taking care of  _ that _ .”

Tears sting Dean’s eyes and he draws a shaky breath. It’s been two weeks since his meltdown and that horrible orgasm. 

“I got you a few gifts the other day,” Cas continues. “This is an excellent time to give you one.”

There’s some crinkling, then Dean nearly jumps out of his skin as one of Cas’s hands closes around his balls and pulls on them, pulling them out from his body until he’s shaking. Something cold closes around his sack and he digs his nails into his ass to keep from moving. Cas fiddles with it, then there’s a snip from a pair of scissors and he lets the whole thing go, and Dean’s not sure if he’s going to liquefy and melt out of his own ears or not. His balls are pushed down by whatever it is and he whimpers. 

“Such pretty jewelry,” Cas muses. “Get up and thank me.”

When Dean releases his ass cheeks, he gasps. No matter how hard he tries, he can’t close his legs without something something sharp against this thighs. He looks down and sees black leather and sharp rivets keeping his balls from his body, a piece of string wrapped tight around it to keep it in place. Gingerly, he turns around and kisses Cas’s shoes. His balls swing as he moves. 

“Thank you, Daddy,” he whispers. “Thank you for making me pretty for you.”

Cas hums appreciatively. “I think we’re having cheeseburges tonight,” he says. 

For a moment, Dean thinks Cas is going to make him get dressed, take him out with spikes around his balls, but then he realises Cas means for him to cook and he can’t decide if that’s better or worse. 

“Yes, Daddy,” he says, and tries to get to his feet. 

He crumples twice, before he manages to stand. His balls swing with every move, but once he’s upright, he finds it’s much easier to walk than he thought. The ring lifts his balls up slightly from between his legs, but he can waddle into the kitchen, where it quickly becomes apparent that he’s going to cook naked. He turns on the oven, pulls out the burger meat and gets started. 

Cas seats himself at the kitchen counter, and watches him with dark eyes, as Dean waddles gingerly around the kitchen. After a while, once the fries are in the oven and Dean’s finished prepping the meat, he calls Dean over. 

“Hop up.” Cas pats the counter. 

Hoisting himself backwards up on the counter, Dean whimpers again as his now soft cock slaps against the spiked steel. 

“I think you’re far too comfortable,” Cas says, and tugs on the string. 

Dean watches in dismay as Cas unwraps the leather, turns the spikes inwards and refastens it with the string. By the end of it, he’s shaking, pinpricks of sharp steel rubbing against his sack. 

“Much better.” Cas gestures for him to jump down and Dean tries to scoot off the counter gently, but he doesn’t quite manage and his balls still jump as he lands, making him keen as the spikes dig in. 

His breathing is unsteady as he wipes down the counter where he’d been sitting, because ew, gross, germs. Cooking is a delicate affair after that. He plates Cas’s burger, then hesitates as he looks at the one he’d automatically made for himself. 

He serves Cas, and only Cas. 

Cas makes him stand with his nose in the corner while he eats, which is a relief since not moving means less poking from the rivets. Jesus, those things are sharp. 

When Cas is finished, he calls Dean to clean up, while he plates a burger and cuts it into small pieces. 

“Seeing as you apparently still think you’re a person, and allowed people food, I guess I’ll just have to make you earn it,” Cas says, leaning against the kitchen island. “All fours now, come on.”

Dean sinks down slowly, then stares as Cas take a piece of burger and tosses it across the room. 

“Go on,” Cas smiles, eyes cold. “Fetch.”

Dean tries to scramble for it, but that makes him fall forward and keen as the rivets dig into his balls and he has to force himself up and into a wide-legged crawl. Cas jeers at him, makes him scurry across the tiles as fast as he’s capable, chasing each bite in different directions. By the time the burger is all gone, Dean is panting, tears in his eyes. 

Cas fists his hair and pulls his head back. 

“So?” he demands. 

“I’m a pet, not a person,” Dean chokes out, feeling the tears starting to leak out of the corners of his eyes. “I don’t eat people food.”

“Exactly,” Cas says. “There’s a good pet.” 

Then he slaps Dean straight across his cheek and Dean falls to the floor with a cry, narrowly managing to not squash his balls. 

“Don’t expect such leniency from me again,” Cas warns, then leaves the room. 

It takes a while before Dean manages to get up, but he crawls into the living room where Cas’s watching TV, splayed out over the same couch Dean had been napping on a few hours ago. His balls throb, and he contemplates telling Cas he needs the rivets off. In the end he settles for turning around, presenting his ass to Cas while pressing his face to the floor in a silent plea. 

Cas waits until there’s a commercial break, before acknowledging him, and then it’s only to untie the rivets, rub over the abused skin and squeeze Dean’s balls until he squeaks. By the time the commercial break is over, Dean’s being ignored and he curls up on the floor near the couch, like a pet near its owner. He doesn’t doze, exactly, but he zones out for a long while. His balls and sack throb dully, his cheek is warm, and his knees are sore and rug burned. 

He startles when he’s poked. 

“Up,” Cas says, patting his own thigh. “I want to warm my cock.”

Dean wriggles onto the couch, settles between Cas’s legs. It’s cramped and awkward, but he’s elated to be allowed to touch Cas. Cas opens his own slacks, pulling his cock out of the opening in the front of his boxer briefs. Dean sighs happily as he lays his head down on Cas’s hip and takes him into his mouth. Cas’s cock is soft and smooth on his tongue, and Dean cradles it there gently. 

After a while, Cas settles a hand on his head and Dean makes a small content sound in the back of his throat. He relaxes there, feeling pampered as Cas absentmindedly pets his hair. Cradled by Cas’s legs, with his cock in his mouth, he’s safe and warm, so he drifts off. Cas wakes him later by tugging his hair, and Dean rouses enough to follow him upstairs. It seems so obvious that the blanket on the floor is for him, and he’s curled under it before he can even think of getting in the bed. This is right. He belongs here, on the floor, looking up at where Cas is getting into bed like real people do. 

It’s alright, he thinks hazily, being a pet isn’t bad. Not when you’ve got an owner like Cas.


	15. Chapter 15

Cas wakes him by throwing the enema bulb at his head. 

“Get clean and wet,” he grunts, collapsing back into bed. 

Dean scrambles up, body sore from the day before. He makes good use of the bathroom, relieving himself and washing himself out thoroughly, before reaching for the lube in the shower. He opens himself up perfunctorily, shoves in extra lube and then returns to the bedroom. 

“Good,” Cas mutters from the bed. “Come here, pet, on your stomach.”

The bed is luxuriously soft as Dean settles on it, utterly confused. Cas drapes over him, more sleepy-limp heat than bruising force, and shoves his cock straight in. It’s blinding, splitting Dean down the middle and he gasps. 

“Mm, shut up,” Cas says, relaxing over him and covering him entirely. 

After a while, it becomes clear that Cas isn’t going to fuck him, so much as sleepily use him to rut into as he dozes. Dean’s being smothered into the sheets, Cas’s weight and hot skin like the world’s best-worst blanket, cock hot and hard inside him as Cas moves with no plan and no care for the body below him. It’s uncomfortable enough to keep him awake, but good enough that it takes no time before Dean’s a mess, cock bent at an awkward angle as it hardens, Cas’s sleepy thrusts rubbing uncoordinatedly at his prostate. 

By the time Cas comes in long, deep thrusts, Dean is quivering, trying to stifle his whimpers. He’s so hard, so desperately hard, and if Cas had kept going for a while more, Dean would’ve come without getting touched once. Cas, however, seems to go back to sleep over Dean’s back, breathing deeply in his ear. His cock slips out as it softens and now Dean does whimper. He tries to stop shaking, but he can’t, frustrated tears springing to his eyes as the possibility of an orgasm disappears yet again. 

When Cas rolls off him at long last, it’s only to poke his side and mumble “Coffee” at him. Dean rises, staring down at his cock before clenching his fists and going to make coffee. He’s still breathing unsteadily when the scent of it draws Cas downstairs, even though his cock has softened. 

Cas leans on his shoulder as Dean pours him a mug, then goes to his knees near Cas’s seat as Cas drinks it, pours another and makes toast for himself. 

“Good morning, pet,” Cas says, hand stroking Dean’s hair. 

“Good morning, Daddy,” Dean says, despondent, before the tears finally fall. “Daddy, please punish me,” he begs.

Cas’s eyebrows rise. “This early in the morning?”

“I almost came from you fucking me,” Dean admits, hoarse.

Cas hums. “Really?”

“Yes, Daddy.” Shame burns in his chest. “I was holding back, but I was gonna, but then you came, so I couldn’t. I’m sorry, Daddy, I’m so sorry.”

“That’s got you real upset, hasn’t it?” Cas notes, pouring something into a bowl.

Dean nods, hiccuping through his tears.

“Please,” he whispers. “Please, Daddy.” 

Something scatters over the floor, and Dean looks up to see Cas putting the rice bag back in the cupboard. He snaps his fingers impatiently, and points at the rice. Dean crawls over as fast as he can, settling back on his knees.  

“Face to the floor,” Cas nods. “You can stay there until I’ve eaten.”

Dean shuffles around, until he can press his face to the floor. It’s as comforting as it’s horrible, the tiles hard under his already sore knees, the rice digging into his skin like shards of glass. Tears smear over the tiles, as he listens to Cas eating. The coffee smells amazing now, and his stomach growls. 

“Brush it up,” Cas says, and Dean jerks back to the real world from where he’d narrowed in on nothing but the pain. 

He hurries to brush all the rice up into a neat pile with his hands, taking care to do his knees and forehead last. Once it’s all in the trash, Cas places a bowl of oatmeal in front of him. It’s barely lukewarm, but Dean bends to eat from the bowl anyway. It’s slimy and bland, and he has to be careful to not get it on his face, which he mostly succeeds with. 

Cas sends him off to shower, which he does hastily. Leaving Cas for any longer stretch of time makes his insides wobble, so he hurries back, still damp. Cas has never been a morning person, so the rest of the morning passes quietly, with Dean napping on the floor near where Cas is reading on the couch. Cas even gives him a blanket to lie on, and Dean rubs his face on it, grateful for the softness and warmth. 

“I need to do the lawn,” Cas notes later. “Do you want to come outside with me, or stay inside?”

Dean’s mouth goes dry. Outside? It’s still warm, even though late summer is bordering on autumn. He’s naked, Cas isn’t offering any clothes. He hesitates for a long moment, before finally making up his mind. 

“Outside, please,” he says. “With you.”

“Is that right? You’d rather be outside with me? What a good pet. Come on, then.”

Of course, Dean should probably have realised it wouldn’t be that easy. Cas brings a bag of stuff with him outside, and before Dean can grasp what’s going on, he’s up on their patio table and cuffed to it, his arms stretched above his head, and Cas is forcing one of their larger plugs into Dean’s mouth. The silicone fills his mouth, stretches him wide, and Cas secures it with a bandana knotted tightly behind his head. Dean writhes as Cas goes to secure his legs, but Cas grabs his balls and tugs at them. 

“Be good,” he says gently, while digging his finger into Dean’s sack until he screams behind the plug. 

Chains go around his ankles, the distinct sound of padlocks clicking shut echo inside Dean’s head. The position leaves his feet wide apart, heels barely on the edge of the table. 

“I said I got you presents,” Cas says. “I know Hot Topic isn’t your thing, but I must say the bracelet looked good on you yesterday. Now, this.” He snaps a collar around Dean’s neck. “That’s from PetSmart. Suitable, hm?”

The plug presses down on his tongue, but the shape allows Dean to swallow awkwardly around it. Cas wanders off, and Dean watches as he gets the lawn mower going. He stares at the sky, then looks around the yard. It would take nothing at all for someone to walk past and see him tied down here. His cheeks flame as he thinks of a stranger coming cross him, them being just as unable to open the padlocks as he is. They’d stare down at him. Maybe they’d touch him.

His cock fills at the thought and he whimpers behind the gag. The fact that he’s hard makes it even worse, but it getting worse means his cock is getting harder. 

“God, really?” Cas scoffs as he appears, and Dean didn’t even notice the lawn mower shutting off. “Look at that cock, it’s as though it’s seeking something to fuck.”

Cas flicks the head with a finger nail and Dean keens.

“So greedy. Don’t worry, your cock isn’t getting anything at all. We don’t want to encourage it, do we? Everyone can already see what a desperate pet you are.”

Dean glares weakly at Cas, who’s now rubbing his ass because that’s definitely going to help the dick situation. 

“I think this is greedy too,” Cas muses. “Oh well, at least I can fix that.” 

A lubed finger prods into him, then disappears as Cas bends for his apparently magical bag, pulling out a prostate massager Dean bought on Amazon a year ago. He’s achingly familiar with it, and shakes his head frantically. 

Obviously, Cas doesn’t give a shit, because after a good amount of lube, it slips into his ass and rests snuggly against his taint. Dean’s already gasping. This is the single most expensive thing he’s ever bought for himself that wasn’t car related, and Jesus fuck, it was worth it.

“Mowing the lawn is so boring,” Cas muses as he wriggles the massager. “I figured the least I could do is make you suffer for me, so I have something fun to watch.”

Tears spring to Dean’s eyes as he realises what Cas means. True to form, Cas holds up the remote and clicks the button that makes the bulbous head of the massager rotate. Dean groans as the sensation sweeps through him. 

“If you can come from this, you’re allowed,” Cas says. “I’d suggest you abstain though, because I don’t care if you do. You’ll stay here until I’ve finished with the lawn either way.”

Last time  _ Dean _ mowed the lawn, it took over an hour. Cas hasn’t mowed the lawn in a very long time, and it’ll likely take him longer. Based on the way he stays, watching Dean whimper from the toy, he’s not particularly in any rush either, slowly palming his crotch as Dean can’t stop himself from gently rocking back on the massager. It just feels so good, so good. He suckles the plug in his mouth, wishing it was Cas’s cock. 

Cas pets his knee, then walks off. 

For a while, it’s pretty awesome. The massager rotates inside him in just the right way to send shivers through him, and when he rocks down on it, the pressure against his taint is delicious. If he had a greater range of motion, he’d be grinding onto it, but every time he tries to get his whole heels onto the table, his arms pull uncomfortable and he has to give it up. He tries undulating his hips, but one heel slips off the table and ow, fuck, that pulls at his shoulders. 

There’s a breeze, and he hears the sound of the lawn mower in the distance. It’s not that warm, laying still here, but warm enough. He zones out, caught between sucking on the plug and the way the rotation makes him shudder. 

He’s entirely unprepared for the vibration to start up. His eyes fly open, his back arches and he rocks down as hard as he can, keeing. Over to the side of the patio, Cas is leaning on the railing, the small remote control in his hand. 

“You looked far too comfortable, pet,” he says, then wanders off again, leaving Dean shuddering on the table. 

It’s harder to zone out this time, he can’t quite manage it. The breeze is cool against his hard cock, which is pulsing against his stomach, precome smearing nearing his navel. Vibration rumbles through his prostate on every rotation of the bulb, and now he’s getting desperate. It’s so, so good. Shit, how long has it been? He’s lost track. 

He’s whimpering for real now, keening as he can’t stop himself from fucking back at the massager as best he can, using his ass muscles to clench around it. Everything throbs, his skin is too tight, his toes tingle, he’s sucking desperate breaths through his nose. It starts at the base of his spine, moving through him until he’s sobbing, trembling with build of the wave that’s going to crush him. Tossing his head, he fights it, tries to stay above it, crying desperately as he chants  _ no, no, no  _ in his head. It doesn’t help.

He screams behind the plug when it hits, bows his back and yanks at his wrists. Fireworks explode through his skin, everything is fuzzy and fizzy and so good, he sobs and trembles, ass still clenching, his body like a foreign entity milking the massager for all its worth. 

A thumb strokes over his cheek and when he pries his eyes open, Cas is standing there, sticking the thumb with Dean’s tears into his mouth. 

“Please, please,” he tries, but the sound is too muffled behind the gag to be of any use. 

“That’s right, pet. You can cry if you like, but look at your cock? It’s not going down, and you didn’t come with it, did you? You came dry, just like a good pet does. People get to come with their cocks, not pets.” Cas’s eyes glint dangerously, and the vibrations turn off even as the massager keeps rotating. “Let’s try something else.”

The plastic clothespins on his nipples make Dean cry harder. He was feeling so good, and now it hurts, but the rotation is still ongoing, sending intense pleasure coursing through him, only for it to clash with the terrible pain of the pins.

Cas gently wipes his nose for him. “There’s no fighting this, pet,” he says. “I own you. I’ll do whatever I want with you.”

Dean nods miserably, because it’s true. Cas owns him. Cas will do whatever he likes. 

It doesn’t prevent him from screaming as the vibrations come back on, stronger than before. His cock throbs at the sensation, but moving makes the pins move and that’s bad, that’s terrible, but then the massager hits just right and Dean writhes because it’s all he can do. 

Cas hums happily as he walks off, the lawn mower resuming its path. 

Look, Dean’s had anal orgasms before. They’re all-encompassing pleasure and he loves them, they’re so good, he can’t get enough of them. Now though, with the pain and pleasure warring inside him, he doesn’t want another one. He fights his with all his might, holding back and holding back.

It’s torn from him anyway, the relentless whirring if the massager forcing it out of him and then drawing it out until Cas appears again. 

Dean is a mess. There’s tears and snot all over his face, he’s trembling uncontrollably, his shoulders hurt and his prostate is sensitive and sore, even the pleasure not feeling that good anymore. 

Cas doesn’t even stop the vibrations this time, though he lowers them down to one. He simply places an undetermined number of pins over Dean’s balls, watching him fight his restraints, try to close his legs. 

Dean’s entire body fights it when the massager vibrations go up again, far, far up, the rotation speed increased. Cas stays near him now, looks down at him as Dean screams and pleads. He wants to force the massager out, but he can’t. He wants to claw out of his own skin, torn between overwhelming sensations, but he can’t. He looks over at Cas, who’s palming himself through his pants again. 

“You’re so desperate,” Cas says. “Anyone could walk in here and you’d beg for their cock, wouldn’t you, as long as they take that thing out first.”

Dean nods miserably. 

“You’re so lucky you got me. This is what you’d be like without me, isn’t it? Begging strangers for cock, begging to get something to shove your pet cock into. No shame at all.”

Except there is, because even as Dean fights the hurricane roaring towards him, tears spill because Cas is right, anyone could see how desperate he is. 

“You’re even on display outside, and don’t think I’ve not noticed how your ass keeps milking that toy, greedy thing. You can’t hide it from me, boy. You still crave this.”

Dean shakes his head. He doesn’t, he doesn’t! He doesn’t want this! It hurts, it hurts, it’s so good and then it hurts, and he can’t deal. 

“What would you do to get out of this?” Cas wonders, his hand having wandered into his pants now. “Would you take that hot sauce inside your cock?”

Dean nods, sobbing. 

“I can fetch it,” Cas suggest. “I’m sure you’d scream so nicely if I brought it out now, added it to all of this.”

Dean doesn’t even answer, just cries as his body struggles towards another anal orgasm. It hurts so bad, all he can do is keen and cry, his back arching.

“Do you want this to be your last one, pet?”

Dean nods as hard as he can, then it overtakes him. He’s crushed through a small tube, flushed out the other side. He’s screaming, his whole body convulsing with shocking pleasure. Then everything explodes in pure pain, goes white and terrible. 

He comes back and the massager is still in his ass, but there’s no rotation, no vibration. For a moment, he’s grateful, but then his balls give a painful throb and he wants to curl onto his side and hold them. The clothespins are gone from them, and he assumes Cas smacked them off. Exhausted, he pants through his clogged nose, until Cas steps into view again. 

He’s holding the hot sauce and Dean sobs at the sight. He’s been terrified of that bottle since Cas mentioned it, and now it’s happening anyway, and he doesn’t want it, but he doesn’t want the massager to start up either. 

Cas twists one of the clothespins on his nipples and Dean arches, keening. 

“I’ll make you a deal,” Cas says, playing with the pin, “because I’m nice like that. You can do the hot sauce, or you can do something else, but I won’t tell you what.”

It’s a terrible choice. Cas insists on giving him these awful choices, where both will hurt. 

“Hot sauce?” Cas says, waving the bottle. 

Dean looks at it, and shakes his head. He just can’t, he can’t. 

Cas’s smile is cruel and cold. “Deal,” he says, and smacks off the clothes pins, one after another.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BEWARE: Possible squick in this chapter. See end notes.

Cas is a mean and terrible man, and Dean loves him very much, just not right now. 

He’s exhausted, his body screaming at him, and he hangs his head, breathing deep. 

“Keep at it,” Cas says behind him. 

He’s squatted down on the lawn, his hands tied in front of him, but of course that wasn’t enough for Cas. Rope and string connect his hands to his balls and his balls to his ankles, and moving is altogether terrible. Which was why Cas had given him the small, handheld rake they usually used for tending the flower benches, except now he’s raking the lawn that Cas mowed. 

In all their time together, neither has ever cared about raking the goddamn lawn after mowing. 

Gingerly, he lifts his left foot, moves it forward without tugging his bonds, then lifts his hands and rakes. His thighs are shaking with exhaustion, and his balls are throbbing painfully. Tears have been streaming down his cheeks for a long while now, and what of the gag that wasn’t soaked, now is. The wet cotton clings to his face, his jaw aches from the plug in his mouth. 

That’s not even the worst part. The worst part is that once Cas took him down from the table, Dean became aware of how badly he needed to pee, and he’s been holding it since. Waddling in a squat around the lawn isn’t helping, and his bladder hurts now, but when he looks back, the house is so far away. 

“Perhaps you need more motivation,” Cas muses, then walks off.

When he sees his owner walk over to the bag on the patio and pull out a riding crop, Dean rakes faster. Of course, that doesn’t help. Cas taps his ass with the crop, making Dean clench around the massager that Cas had refused to move, but that’s mercifully both still and quiet now. It rubs against Dean’s prostate when he clenches, and his whole body shudders as he keens from the sensation.

He keeps raking, moving the cut grass into small piles on his left. 

The crop falls again, on his other butt cheek, harder now, and Dean jerks, shrieking as he accidentally tugs at his balls while the prostate massager prods him. He can’t stop shivering, his bladder hurts. He turns to Cas, raising his hands in prayer. 

“Yes, pet?” Cas says. 

Dean mimes needing to pee. 

“Oh, you need to piss?”

He nods, gesturing towards the house. 

A slow smirk spreads over his owner’s face. “What, a toilet? Since when does a pet like you need a toilet?”

Dean hangs his head, face red. 

“You can go in the compost pile,” Cas continues, and Dean whimpers. 

Their compost piles is a good twenty yards from where he’s squatting. That’s a long, long way to waddle. He nods, and tries to get on his knees in order to crawl, but ends up toppling forward instead, hands tied too close to his balls. Cas laughs at him as he pants against the grass.

“Up you go,” he says. 

It takes several tries before Dean gets back up into the squat. He duckwalks forward, thighs shaking, toes digging into the grass below him. Cas motivates him by swats to his shoulder and back, though it doesn’t exactly make Dean walk faster, too scared of tripping from flinching at the pain, first from the crop, then from clenching around the toy inside him. 

His bladder throbs at him. If he falls down once more, he’s going to lose it. Dean narrows in on the compost pile and when he reaches it, he’s covered in sweat. He looks quizzically up at Cas, who only smiles coldly. 

“Go on then, pet,” he says. 

Looking between the pile and his bound hands, Dean settles back on his heels, spreads his knees wide and manages to keep the rope out of the way with one hand while his other touches his coc--and he shouts in surprise and pain, fire licking up his back from where the crop landed. 

“No. Touching,” his owner admonishes. “You can lift a leg like any other pet.”

Dean cries as he rearranges himself awkwardly. He places his hands on the grass, manages to heave himself onto his knees with his feet up near his balls and then teethers dangerously before figuring out how to lift his leg. His tired muscles are screaming in protest, but he hangs his head and sighs as he finally gets to pee. It doesn’t seem like it’ll ever stop, flowing out of him unhindered, soaking the grass below him and splattering over the ropes, and he doesn’t care, because finally, finally, tension leaves him. 

He doesn’t make it up to a kneel. Cas hauls him back, which smashes Dean’s face and shoulders to the ground, then he kicks Dean’s knees wide apart, making him scream as he tugs at his own balls, already so sore and swollen. 

The prostate massager gets ripped out, something cold dribbles over him, then Cas’s cock is shoving into him, relentless and hard and huge, rubbing over every tender spot inside him, over his sore rim. Dean keens pitifully against the plug in his mouth, fingers scrabbling uselessly in the grass where his hands are smashed into his chest. 

His owner fucks him there, in piss soaked grass. He’s thrusting hard and fast, slamming in while pulling Dean’s hips back to meet him. It’s like punching on Dean’s abused prostate, and he’s crying hard again. He doesn’t want it, doesn’t want anything to do with it, but the orgasm builds fast, rips through him and he screams with the force of it, everything tensing and he’s so oversensitive, so beyond oversensitive, as Cas continues to fuck into his limp body, digging his fingers into Dean’s hip as he finally stutters and comes. 

Dean’s not even really there yet, by the time Cas pulls out and stands. He looks up at his owner through wet lashes and eyes barely opened, watching as Cas pulls his pants up, then looks down at Dean again, before tucking them below his balls and taking his cock in hand. Dean closes his eyes just in time to feel warm urine streaming over him, drenching him. Hogtied and aching, exhausted and covered in grass and dirt and piss, Dean gives in. Exactly what it is inside him that gives in, he doesn’t know, but something gives in and he relaxes, taking the piss and the filth for what it is. This is where he’s supposed to be. 

When his owner comes over and unties his feet, Dean follows on unsteady feet. Cas leads him by the rope still attached to his balls, until they get to the side of the attached garage, where Cas undoes the ball ties and Dean whimpers in relief. Cas hands him a bar of white, cheap soap, then turns the hose on and lets Dean wash off as best he can, hands still tied together. 

“Wet pets get to stay in here and dry off,” Cas says inside the garage, changing the rope for dry rope as he reties Dean’s hands to his collar and ankles. 

He watches Dean settle on the rough blanket they usually use in Baby’s trunk to haul paint and wood. The cement floor is hard, the blanket scratchy, but Dean curls up and closes his eyes. Cas flicks the lights off and takes the side door back into the house. Pets dry off in the garage. It seems so simple. 

He must nod off, because next thing he knows, Cas is next to him with the softest of blankets and some water. Dean sips it gratefully, clutches at the soft blanket, entirely confused as to why this is on offer. Then Cas unties him, pulls him up and leads him into the house, whispering soft nonsense words the entire time. Dean stares as Cas fills the tub with hot water and makes Dean get in, but if that’s what his owner wants, then he’ll do it. 

“You were amazing, baby,” Cas murmurs, petting Dean’s hair from the outside of the tub because theirs is not nearly large enough for two grown men. “Can you come back to me for a while?”

Come back from where? Dean shakes his head slightly, eyes closed as he relaxes in the warm water. 

“Alright. I’ve got you. You did so well, you’ve pleased me so much. You make a beautiful pet.”

At that, Dean smiles, sighs contently and allows himself to bask in his owner’s attention.

In the end, it takes an entire night and a day for him to resurface properly. That first night, he barely manages to sleep next to Cas in the bed, waking up several times with his heart in his throat, only comforted by Cas’s arm slung across him and the collar around his neck. He’d clutched it tight when Cas had tried to remove it, so they’d let it be. Cas feeds him breakfast at the table, like a person, and that’s slightly awkward, but Dean makes an effort because Cas’s got that worried crease between his eyebrows. 

Thankfully, Cas seems to understand Dean’s need to follow him everywhere, and they settle on the couch for movies, Dean squashed in between Cas’s legs. He gets to pick a movie, so Star Wars it is, and when Cas prompts him for commentary, he gives it. They throw popcorn at the bad guys and cheer the rebels, and when they finally go to bed, Dean watches Cas fall asleep and then slips quietly into the bathroom, where he digs out the ring from behind the hairspray and stares at it. 

It glints slightly in the bathroom light. 

That’s when Dean knows what he needs to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Watersports: The Sequel. Cas and Dean play with urine.


	17. Chapter 17

Three days later, Dean opens his eyes in the middle of the night and he’s on fire. Hot and cold flashes over his skin, and his scalp tingles, and his brain is burning, molten lava. He heaves himself out of bed and sucks in air, before padding to the bathroom where he splashes cool water on his face and sits on the toilet to relieve himself. 

“Y’ok?” Cas murmurs when he comes back to bed. 

“I’m fine,” Dean says quietly, and climbs back into bed, tucking the cover around him so it’s barely covering his hip. 

He forces himself to sleep, and the next morning, he forces himself to go to work. By the time it’s lunch, he feels like he’s been run over by an eighteen wheeler truck, and his heart beats hard as soon as he turns around. He drinks more water, tosses a few small salt packets into his back pocket, and goes back to work. 

“Winchester,” his supervisor calls after him when his shift is over. “Hey, I’m not gonna say nothin’ this time, but never show up hungover again, alright?”

“Anniversary of my mom’s death,” Dean lies, and watches the man nod in understanding. “It won’t happen again.”

“S’all I care about.”

He shuffles out, drives home and peels off his clothes as he goes through the house. A brief scrub down later, he tumbles into bed and hides under the covers. 

“Dean?” Cas calls when he comes home. “I thought we talked about the clothes.”

He wishes he could hide under the bed instead, but he can’t, he’s tried. When Cas comes in the bedroom, he doesn’t turn around. 

“Baby?” Cas says behind him. 

Dean grunts. “I’m fine, just need a nap.”

Cas audibly pauses, which makes Dean want to flinch. “Alright,” Cas says. “Can I come sit with you while you sleep?”

“No creepy staring,” Dean mutters. 

Cas chuckles. “I’ll stare at my Kindle, I promise.”

Dean falls asleep to the sound of Cas stripping out of his suit, and doesn’t remember anything until he opens his eyes and sees Cas staring at him.

“Dude,” Dean says, swatting after him.

“I can’t help it, you’re so beautiful,” Cas says with this utterly adoring smile that makes Dean’s heart pound. 

“Fuck off,” Dean tells his pillow.

A hand appears in his hair, stroking it, and it’s magical. Dean sighs in pleasure. 

“Pizza day?” Cas asks.

Dean nods. “Stupid drop. Hit last night. Today sucked, I feel like after that party where Gabriel made drinks.”

“My brother is an idiot with an over-enthusiastic liver,” Cas mutters with audible irritation, before his tone softens. “Anything I can do?”

“Call for pizza and don’t be mad at me.”

“I’ll suspend my angry feels until a later point in time.”

Dean frowns up at him. “Angry feels? Really?”

“Alfie says I’m rad.”

“You need a new job,” Dean says darkly. “Your colleagues suck.”

“Being a bank teller is a very respectable job,” Cas says reasonably, “and also, it got us decent interest on the mortgage.”

“Make’em fire Alfie.” Dean throws the covers off and flails his way into Cas’s lap, smashing his face against Cas’s thigh, arms wound tight around him. “On the basis of using stupid language.”

Cas chuckles. “Meat lovers?”

Dean nods. “With jalapenos.”

“On behalf of my intestines: Fuck that,” Cas says. 

Dean whines. Cas heaves a giant, put-upon sigh. 

“Fine. One meat lovers, extra jalapenos,” he says, then picks up his phone. 

***

Sex isn’t the answer to sub drop, but damn if Dean’s going to complain when--after pizza and Cas reading him stupid poetry that Dean will never, ever admit to loving--Cas has spent the better part of an hour slowly massaging him, rubbing sore and tired muscles until they’re putty. Then they’d gotten distracted, or rather, Cas had gotten distracted by Dean’s ass, bending down to give it a kiss, and then another, and another, and now he’s buried deep between Dean’s ass cheeks, tongue gentle on Dean’s still sore rim. 

“Cas, please,” Dean begs, though he’s not sure for what. 

He’s exhausted, limbs heavy and entirely uncoordinated, and mind shattered into a thousand pieces. Cas eats ass like he loves it, like he worships it, like Dean is everything good and fragile he’s ever been allowed to touch. It’s never once failed to make Dean’s chest tight with emotion. 

“You gotta,” Dean gasps, “Cas, god.”

Cas groans against him, a large hand on Dean’s hip as he manhandles Dean onto his back. Then Cas goes right back to it, nosing up in between Dean’s legs, splaying them wide and up, until he can keep licking at Dean’s ass. He doesn’t stop there either, mouthing gentle lips and warm wet tongue over Dean’s balls, sucking them delicately into his mouth.

They’re still sensitive, and Dean gasps again at the sensations, hips moving of their own as he bucks up, then settles down again. Cas keeps going up, still soft-warm-wet, sliding up over Dean’s cock before swallowing him down. Dean’s hands wrap into his hair and he groans loudly as Cas moves, slow and languid, his tongue pressed tightly against the underside of Dean’s cock. 

“I’m--I’m gonna,” Dean manages, and Cas groans around him, nodding. 

There’s a twist of Cas’s head on the upstroke, a hand closing around the base as Cas keeps going, building the tempo achingly slowly until Dean crests over, and comes shuddering down Cas’s throat. Cas gentles him through it, licks softly until Dean’s spent and oversensitive, then presses a kiss to Dean’s hip. 

“C’m’ere,” Dean mutters, body singing with pleasure and heavy with sleep. 

Cas crawls up, his tented boxers against Dean’s hip, but he thwarts Dean’s clumsy hand. 

“I’m okay,” he says, kissing Dean’s hair. “You sleep, baby. I love you.”

“Mmph,” Dean answers eloquently, and drifts off.


	18. Chapter 18

It takes weeks to plan it out just right, and then Dean’s all set.

He looks over the plans, then sets them aside and undresses. It’s been ages since they played, mostly because life got in the way. There was work and Dean did overtime to finish up a delayed project, and then Cas got fucking food poisoning from the Chinese place on 5th, spending a week doing all kinds of gross things in the bathroom (which Dean has bleached the hell out of, thank you very much).

Gathering up the last items, he heads downstairs, sets them on the living room floor and plops himself down next to his hoard. Then he waits. For a while, he dicks around on his phone, scrolling 9gag and drooling over food on Reddit. Then he hears the monstrosity of a car that Cas insists on driving, and panics slightly. Knees? Forehead to the floor?

When Cas’s key fits into the lock, he slides up onto his knees, hands behind his back and head bowed. His heart pounds in his chest, his hands are clammy as he waits for Cas to spot him.

“Oh,” Cas breathes.

Dean watches from below his lashes as Cas sets his bag aside, drops his keys and wallet, and strips out of his coat. Cas walks over to him and Dean shivers at the feeling of it.

“I thought we agreed you don’t pick the implements,” Cas says.

Dean scrambles internally. “It’s not for punishment,” he blurts. “I, uh…”

Cas waits for him to reply, and Dean stares intently at where he can see Cas’s shoes. His cheeks flame, blush spreading down his chest even as his cock slowly thickens.

“I want you to hurt me,” he admits, hoarse. “I want you to hurt me and fuck me, I want to be bruised and used.”

Cas shifts slightly.

“I think you can do better than that,” he says softly.

Dean whines. “Please hurt me, sir, please hurt me and use me and put me in my place,” he begs, shame burning in his chest.

Cas clears his throat pointedly and Dean hangs his head.

“Daddy,” he forces out. “Please use me.”

“Such begging. Do you know who begs for cock like this?”

“Greedy boys,” Dean mutters, and he’s completely hard now, cock straining even as Dean rocks back and forth a little on his heels.

“But you’re not begging for cock are you? You want me to hurt you.”

“Yes, Daddy,” Dean whispers.

“You want me to hurt you so you can earn my cock, isn’t that right?”

“Yes, Daddy,” Dean nods, and holy fuck, everything is on fire.

“Look at me,” Cas commands, and Dean forces himself to meet Cas’s eyes. “You’re so greedy for my cock, but you think it’s special, something to be earned, something you need to prove your worth for, isn’t it?”

Dean swallows nervously and nods again. “Yeah,” he manages.

Cas goes over to the couch and Dean spins around to face him.

“Why don’t you tell me about it?” Cas says, crossing his legs and folding his hands into his lap, entirely unaffected.

Ohmygod. Dean can barely breathe. He whines slightly, then wets his lips.

“Please, Daddy,” he begs.

“No, I’m intrigued,” Cas says. “I want to know all about your filthy little mind. Why do you think you need to earn it?”

“Wanna be good for you,” Dean murmurs, unable to look up at Cas. “I need it so bad, I always need it so bad. Need you inside me, filling my holes with your cock. It feels so good when you’re inside me. You fill me like nobody else.” His face burns. “It’s like I was made for your cock, Daddy. Made to scream on your cock, for you to play with. When you don’t, it gets so confused!”

Cas hums, but doesn’t say anything, making a _keep going_ gesture with his hand.

“I want you to discipline my hole,” Dean says. “It’s so greedy, Daddy, it wants you all the time!” On impulse, he turns around and spreads his cheeks, face to the floor. “Look how empty it is,” he whines. “My mouth is empty too, but my ass… it needs you, needs you to fill it and come in it and use it and hurt it so it doesn’t forget it’s manners.” He rubs dry fingers against his hole, whimpering. “I can’t stop it, Daddy, I can’t! I need you!”

“Need me to help you control yourself, hm?” Cas says.

“Yeah,” Dean gasps, grateful and eyes stinging. “Need you to hurt me so I don’t forget myself, so I don’t start shoving other things in there.”

“Other _things_. Tell me, boy,” a shoe prods at his hole. “Have you put other things in your ass? In _my_ fuck hole?”

“No, no, no,” Dean shakes his head best he can. “I didn’t, Daddy, but I’m so empty, I need something in there, I need to be full, need to get fucked. Your fuck hole needs maintenance, needs to be reminded of its purpose.”

“It does, doesn’t it?” Cas muses, withdrawing his foot. “What should we do about that, huh?”

“I can--I can fuck myself for you,” Dean says, turning around again. “I could shove it full and let you see how good it is, use it for you.”

Cas’s eyes narrow dangerously.

“Or!” Dean blurts. “I can discipline it for you!”

“Can you, hm? You think you have what it takes to control it?”

Dean nods, but he’s uncertain. “Not as good as you can.”

“Oh, no, I want to see this now. What would you do to that fuck hole to keep it in line? I see you brought out a few items for me to use, why don’t you show me their purpose.”

Dean looks down at the leather paddle and the wooden spoon he’d brought down and winces. He picks up the paddle first.

“I was thinking you’d want to hurt me,” he says. “This one looks so small, but Daddy, it hurts so bad.”

“Where would I have used it on you?”

“My ass,” Dean says at once, “maybe after a spanking. You’d pop it all over, covering every inch of it until I was crying, then you’d head down to my thighs, make sure I kick and scream.”

“Is that so? Maybe you should show me?”

“On my ass?”

“Let’s do a couple on your thighs first, boy. Spread your knees.” Cas is leaning forward now, eyes intense as Dean spreads his knees and aims at the top of his thighs. “That’s right. Five on each side. Don’t wimp out now, look at how hard your cock is, you want to get that all the way down so that it remembers how useless it is.”

That makes Dean want to close his legs and hunch forward, but instead he aims at his right thigh, close to the hip. He looks up at Cas, who nods his go-ahead, then takes a deep breath and smacks the paddle down hard. Instantly, he curls forward, crying out with the pain.

“Oh dear,” Cas murmurs. “That looked like it hurt.”

“Yes, Daddy,” Dean gasps, struggling up into position again, his cock not quite as hard anymore.

“Another,” Cas orders, and Dean aims slightly lower, then smacks it down again, gentler.

“Again, same spot,” Cas frowns. “I thought you said you could control yourself for me, but that was pathetic, and you’re still hard.”

A small sob breaks out from between Dean’s lips, and he smacks the paddle down again, crying out. By the tenth one, he’s panting hard and his cock has gone down.

“Hmm, maybe you _can_ do this,” Cas says. “Now the spoon.”

Dean grabs it in a shaking hand. “I was thinking you could bruise me with this,” he says. “My thighs especially.”

“Let’s do your inner thighs with it,” Cas suggests. “Three on each side, and you better hold yourself still for them.”

Dean nods miserably, and sits down on his ass, legs crossed. Then he pauses.

“Daddy,” he says slowly. “May I hold my cock out of the way?”

“I think not,” Cas answers. “You need the incentive to stay still.”

Dean aims carefully, waits for Cas’s nod and then pinches his eyes shut as he smack the spoon down. Tears spring to his eyes when he tries not to flinch from the pain. He does it again, and again, and sobs once he swaps the spoon to his left hand. He’s crying by the end of it, slow tears trickling down his cheeks, purple-white splotches marring his thighs.

“Would you look at that,” Cas says, pleased. “Your cock has gone all the way down.”

“But I’m still empty,” Dean sobs. “Daddy, Daddy, it didn’t work.”

“Oh it didn’t? You still can’t control your greedy ass?”

Dean shakes his head. “I need your cock,” he admits. “Need you to fill me and make it better.”

“Maybe I should discipline your ass then, seeing as it’s so greedy you couldn’t do it. Pathetic, really, no self-control whatsoever.”

Dean draws giant, trembling breaths, and nods.

“Come over my lap, then,” Cas says.

Dean scrambles to his feet, but of course Cas isn’t going to make it easy for him. Cas makes him sit on his lap, then bend down and put his hands on the floor, knees on either side of Cas’s hips.

“Not a single bruise here,” Cas says, smoothing over Dean’s ass as Dean trembles. ”I’ll fix that.”

Heavy blows rain down on Dean and he hangs his head, wriggling as he tries to deal with the pain. Cas lights his ass right on fire, hard, unrelenting blows until Dean’s forced down on his elbows, sobbing.

“Pass me that paddle, boy,” Cas says, and Dean passes it back.

“Please no more,” he begs. “I can’t, I can’t, Daddy, please.”

Cas rubs his fingers over Dean’s hole. “This says otherwise. You wanted me to teach it a lesson.”

“Yes, Daddy,” Dean manages, then screams as the paddle comes down.

And okay, maybe Dean had this idea of a light spanking, some sexy fun time, when he started this. Now however, it plain hurts. He’s crying out with every blow, the leather paddle biting into his ass, the tops of his thighs. Cas is being stupidly meticulous, covering every angle of flesh from the tops of Dean’s ass cheeks and halfway down his thighs, swapping the angle of the paddle so that the tip can bite in properly all over.

When Cas puts it aside, Dean’s beyond words, crying hard and his nose is clogged, tears dripping down it and onto the carpet. His back is sweaty, he’s pretty sure his cock’s gone and hid in another dimension.

“What a good boy you are,” Cas says. “Letting me know your hole needs maintenance. Give me the spoon now.”

“Daddy,” Dean cries. “Daddy, no.”

“I’d like the spoon,” Cas repeats firmly, and Dean reluctantly passes it backwards.

The thing about that spoon is that it really fucking hurts. Badly. Why he picked it, Dean’s go no idea, but he’s definitely regretting it by now.

Cas’s thumb digs into his ass cheek and Dean whines, high and pitiful, as Cas seeks out his sit bones on each side. Dean shakes his head against the floor, muttering _No, no, no, please, Daddy, no_ , but he’s ignored.

The spoon comes down right on the crease of his ass, the smack jolting through Dean’s ass and pelvis, and he claws at the floor as he screams. Another one mirrors the first one on the other side.

“I don’t think this is enough,” Cas mutters. “Where’s the lube? This hole really needs to be filled, it’s just begging for it.”

Dean passes the lube back too, then sags down. Two fingers press into his ass, wet and cold and too big, and he screams as Cas lays blow after blow on the inner crease if his ass.

“Open up!” Cas demands. “I know how greedy you are, you don’t get to try hide it from me now, boy.”

“I’m trying!” Dean wails, then thrashes as the spoon comes down harder on the tops of his thighs. “Daddy!”

Cas’s fingers slip in, and then Cas is fucking them in and out, cruelly twisting and hooking them against Dean’s prostate, even as the spoon marks the most sensitive areas of Dean’s thighs. Dean kicks his feet where they’re bent up near Cas’s shoulders, wriggles his hips trying to get away.

“Such a fucking greedy hole,” Cas says. “Has it forgotten who owns it?”

“Daddy,” Dean pleads.

“Maybe I need to push my cock in there to remind it.”

Dean can only sob in reply, his ass throbbing and pulsing as Cas pulls out his fingers.  

The there’s a smack and he screams, whiting out entirely, hole clenching shut from where Cas has smacked it with the spoon. He comes back to his face mashed into the carpet, gasping sobs wrecking through all of him.

“Up,” Cas demands, and Dean has to peel himself off the floor, back onto his elbows and then his hands, scooting backwards.

He can feel Cas’s hands beneath him, opening the fly of his slacks, and when he finally sits up, it’s to find Cas pressing his cock inside Dean’s abused hole, painfully stretching it wide open. He pulls Dean back, sitting him down on Cas’s thighs, Dean’s naked back against Cas’s shirt. Cas grips his hips and fucks into him relentlessly, pushing and pulling, slamming his hips up.

“Is this what you needed?” he snarls in Dean’s ear. “Does my fuck hole remember who it belongs to now?”

“Yes, yes,” Dean sobs. “It does, Daddy, it’s yours, I’m yours, Daddy!”

“Tighter,” Cas growls. “I want you tighter around me.”

Dean clenches, but Cas reaches a hand around, pinches one of the bruises on his thigh and cruelly digs his thumb in, pressing and twisting as Dean’s body locks up as he screams. Cas comes, biting his shoulder and grunting, grinding in.

Dean sags backwards, panting, sobbing. Cas’s hands gentle on his hips after a moment, then come up to hug him close.

“Shh,” Cas murmurs. “It’s okay. What a good boy you are, you make me so happy.”

For a long while, as Cas softens and eventually slips out of him, Dean sobs. Cas manhandles him into sitting sideways on his lap, holding him, and Dean stays there, limp and ass throbbing, come leaking out of him.

And, suddenly, he can’t wait.

Limbs flailing, he bolts from Cas’s lap, scrambles up the stairs as Cas follows, calling for him. He rushes into their bedroom, flings open the bathroom door and manages to toss half the contents of their bathroom cabinet on the floor before his hand closes around a small box.

“Dean?” Cas says behind him. “Dean, what’s wrong?”

Dean turns and goes to his knees at the same time, and this isn’t how he planned it, but he opens the box and thrusts it at Cas, and says,

“Want to hurt me forever?”

  


 

They get engaged on the 18th of September - a Tuesday, not a Thursday, but Dean figures it’s close enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... aand there it is, for all of you asking me about the proposal. Only a few more chapters to go for our boys. <3


	19. Chapter 19

“I don’t want to pull your teeth out,” Cas says suddenly in the dark. 

Dean snorts, turning towards him. “Good, I don’t want you to. I just want you to make me think you will.”

“You want me to scare you.” A hand comes up from the nest of blankets, closing around Dean’s own. 

“Yeah.” Dean squeezes it right back. “Fuck with my mind, Cas. Tear it apart and put me back together again.”

There’s a long moment of silence, and then Cas chuckles. “I wonder if this is what people usually talk about on their wedding night.”

Dean laughs and tugs at him, until Cas has rolled in between his legs, his face dimly lit by the street light outside their hotel window. 

“Don’t care,” he breathes against his husband’s lips. “Only one I wanna spend my wedding night with is you.”

“Sap,” Cas says, but Dean can tell he’s grinning, eyes crinkling in the corners. 

They kiss until Cas groans and presses his forehead against Dean’s shoulder. “I hope you don’t expect me to get it up,” he mutters. 

“Are you insane? I’m fucking exhausted.”

“Me too.”

“Let’s talk more about our honeymoon and kiss until we fall asleep.”

“Or we could stick to kissing,” Cas suggests. “I need to keep some secrets.”

“Caa-assss,” Dean whines, and gets a pinch to his nipple. “Ow.”

“Shut up, or all I’m bringing is that vanilla flavoured body lotion.”

Dean squawks. “You wouldn’t dare!”

“I could make sweet, soft love to you in the moonlight, maybe bring a feather to spank you with.”

“Red,” Dean says, laughing. “No way, Cas, nope.”

“Then kiss me.”

So Dean does. 


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !! BEWARE BEWARE BEWARE !! 
> 
> !! A TAG HAS BEEN ADDED AND A NOTE EXPLAINING THE TAG IS AT THE BOTTOM !!

They get to the cabin in early afternoon. It’s in late afternoon, but Dean smiles as he gets out of the Impala. 

“This is gonna be great!” he says, grinning at Cas. “Let’s go check it out and piss before we unpack.”

He makes it about ten steps towards the cabin, before there’s a bag over his head, squeezed tight around his neck, and he flails. 

“I think not,” Cas rasps in his ear. 

There’s a pause, which is Cas checking in, then Dean struggles. 

“What the fuck!” He kicks backwards. “Fuck you, lemme go!” 

The pressure on his neck only tightens, until he has to raise his hands and scratch at the rough cloth.

“Strip,” Cas orders. 

“No!” Dean gasps. “What the fuck, what kind of perv are you?”

“Stip, or I’ll cut your clothes off after. It doesn’t matter to me.”

“No way!” 

“Your choice, and for the record, that was the last one you’ll ever make. You’re mine now. You married me.”

Hands tear off his coat and flannel, then he’s being shoved forward. He stumbles, struggling, as he’s tied to a tree by his elbows. His arms scream in protest and he tries tossing his head to get the sack off, but all that happens is that something heavy snaps around his neck. Then there’s sharp metal against his sternum, tracing over his stomach, and Dean freezes. 

“I suggest you stay still for this,” Cas says.

Panting silently, Dean whimpers as a knife cuts through his shirt, before the scraps of fabric are torn off. There’s a hand on his crotch then, rubbing, and he tries to close his legs, but Cas only laughs. 

“Don’t worry, boy, you’ll get used to it fast. I’ll touch you where ever, and when ever, I fucking want to.”

Hands tear his jeans open, yank them down, then his shoes are unlaced and pulled off along with his socks, before the hand returns to cup his soft cock and balls through his briefs. 

“I love this part,” Cas says. “You always think I’m not going to, but I promise, I will.”

Dean’s breath hitches when cold metal threads in one leg, and out the other, the knife ripping through the crotch of his boxer briefs. Fear pounds in his veins as the knife traces over his belly, cuts through the side of his underwear so they fall off. Then he whimpers, because the tip of the knife is against his cock, rasping over his balls. 

“If you’re real good, I’ll let you keep these,” Cas says. “I’m going to get some stuff in order, but you stay here and think about that.”

Steps fade in the distance, and Dean struggles against the tree. The sack is going nowhere, and his hands are useless when the ties are above his elbows. Sharp pine needles scratch his feet, the bark of the tree rubs against his back until it stings, but he can’t get free. Hanging his head, he trembles as the early summer breeze strokes his skin. He really needs to piss too, and he’s got this uncomfortable feeling that he knows how  _ that _ is going to end. 

It takes a long, long time for Cas to reappear, and Dean can feel the sun shifting. He’d been mostly in the light, but now he’s covered in shade. He still can’t see much through the rough bag, only light and shadows, but he’s shivering when the steps come back. 

“I thought you said you needed to pee.”

“I did - I do, just lemme in the house, man, I can go there!” Dean says. 

“Do you really think that’s going to happen? I’m not letting you use that bathroom for anything, boy. It’s mine now, and you’re mine, so I strongly suggest you get this now because it’ll make this whole week so much easier: I will do whatever the fuck I want to with you. You’re nothing. If I had a dog, you’d be below my dog, and my dog would fucking piss outside, so that’s what you’ll do too.” A hand closes around his dick, making Dean jerk. “Now, I don’t have the time or the interest in hosing you down before dinner, so I’m going to hold this while you pee, and if you piss on my hand, I’ll make you regret it.”

“You’re the one that can fucking see,” Dean says. “If I piss on your hand, it’s your own fucking fault.” 

The hand moves down and grabs his balls in an iron grip, squeezing them tight as they get pulled away from Dean’s body and he screams, thrusting his hips out and trying to follow. It goes on forever. Tears leak out his eyes and he’s tossing his head back and forth, pleading. 

“Please, please, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” 

The hand lets go and Dean sobs in relief.

“You better be, boy. I see you didn’t think about what I could do to you, so I’ll just have to remind you. Now,” the hand is back on his dick. “Piss.”

So, crying and hurting, Dean pisses, someone else’s hand on his cock. Once he’s done, something cold and metal clicks around his left ankle, then his right one, then to the heavy thing around his neck. 

“Just some insurance, boy,” the voice says in amusement. “Wouldn’t want you to run before I finish training you.”

He sobs harder when his arms are released, stumbling forward from the pain of blood flowing back into his hands. 

“Let’s go inside, I’ve made some adjustments for your stay.”

Dean stumbles across the yard, every step yanking on what must be a collar around his neck, chaining him to his ankles. Cas keeps his hand twisted up high on his back. 

“Couple of steps,” he warns, and Dean finds a porch under his feet, and then they’re inside. 

“On your knees,” and Dean goes to his knees, crawling forward when he’s prompted. He’s shuffled into something, then the sack is pulled off and he’s in a crate. A large, foldable metal crate, by the looks of it, the edges reinforced with padlocks so that he can’t open it from the inside. 

“Cas,” he pleads, looking around until he finds his husband. “Cas, why are you doing this? I love you, man.”

Cas smiles at him. “I know, baby. I love you too, but you need to realise there are some rules, and that I’m in charge here, alright? You do as I say, and everything will be alright.”

“I swear I’ll be good,” Dean begs. “Please let me out. I don’t need a cage.”

“You haven’t been house trained yet,” Cas says as though it’s obvious. “If I let you out, you could try run, and I wouldn’t recommend that. Now, hush for a bit, baby, I’m going to fetch some wood and unpack. My things, not yours. It’s not like you’ll be needing them. Lie down in there and relax, it took a long time to find a crate large enough for you. That should tell you how much I love you.”

Slowly, Dean lays down, conscious of the chains from his neck to his ankles. When he looks down, he finds an old type of leg irons on each ankle, and patting around his neck, there’s a heavy collar there. They’re all locked. 

“Aren’t they nice?” Cas says from where he’s putting things away. “I got them special for you, as a wedding present. There’s a pair of cuffs too, and a matching surprise.”

Dean shivers. The blanket on the bottom of the crate is rough. 

He closes his eyes for a bit, breathing in and out evenly and trying to relax. He’s already sore, his shoulders at least. 

“That’s a good boy,” Cas murmurs. “The less you fight me, the easier this will be.”

Dean watches from the crate as Cas prepares some food, sets the table for one, then comes over and opens the crate. 

“We’re going to work on your manners,” Cas says, and gestures for Dean to crawl out. “Good boy! First rule is to not leave the crate, or a room, and  _ especially  _ not the cabin, without explicit permission from me. Come over here, you can warm my cock while I eat, you’ve been so good.”

He shoos Dean in under the table, then sits and opens his pants. His cock tastes musky and slightly of urine when Dean reluctantly opens his mouth and takes it inside. Cas keeps his left hand on Dean’s neck while he eats, keeps Dean’s nose pushed into Cas’s pubes so he can just barely breathe. It’s dizzying being below the table like this, and Dean’s own cock perks up at how casually Cas ignores him, how humiliating it is to be stuck here instead of sitting at the table with Cas. 

“Good boy,” Cas says again, pushing his plate aside and tightening his grip around Dean’s neck as he rocks his hips up. “Such a good boy for me, that’s it, let me fuck your mouth now. You’ve earned a good face fucking, haven’t you?”

Cas fucks him leisurely, keeping Dean’s head still as he slides his cock in and out of Dean’s mouth, and Dean feels like a puppet, like a wet hole for Cas to fuck, like a mouth shaped sleeve for Cas to slide his cock into. 

Dean’s own cock throbs, even as he gags slightly. 

“God, yeah,” Cas groans and shoves himself into Dean’s throat. “That’s it, gag on my cock, that feels so good.”

Dean gags, and gags, and heaves, and he’s so glad it’s been hours since his last meal, because when Cas lets him up, he has to spit onto the floor before Cas shoves his cock right back in. Dean’s head bangs against the table as Cas grabs his hair and ears and rides his face roughly, choking him over and over again until Dean thinks he’s going to pass out. 

“Oh fuck, oh fuck,” Cas grunts, and shoves Dean off, scooting the chair back as he jerks his own cock with a wet sound, fist flying until he arches and comes, striping Dean’s face and his own hand. 

Dean whines. 

Cas huffs a laugh and looks down at him, stretchin out his hand. 

“You can lick it off,” he says, and Dean does, then lets Cas drag his fingers through the come on Dean’s face, before allowing him to suck them clean as well. 

“Say thank you,” Cas prompts him. 

“Thank you,” Dean says. “Thank you so much.”

“You look really hard, baby,” Cas says, poking Dean’s erection with his foot. “Why don’t you hump my leg, hm?”

“What?” Dean looks up, startled. “No! Cas, come on.”

Cas’s eyes narrow. “That wasn’t a suggestion.”

Dean shakes his head. “I’m not a dog! I can’t hump your leg!”

“No?” Cas smiles coldly. “We’ll see about that. I’ll have you humping my leg soon enough, and you’ll be thanking me for it too.”

“I won’t!” 

Cas grabs the chains and hauls him up. “Bend over the couch. I’m not letting you go in the crate like that, there will be no touching yourself without permission.”

“Cas!” Dean whines. “Cas, no!”

“You don’t even know what I’m going to do,” Cas says, amused. 

“No, but I know I’m not gonna like it,” Dean mutters. 

Cas grabs his chin and delivers a swift, stinging slap to his other cheek and he cries out.

“I’m being real nice right now,” Cas says. “Now bend over the fucking couch or you won’t like the consequences.”

Dean shuffles over, awkward and suspicious, until he can bend over the armrest. Once he’s there, he can’t see much but the cushion below him, so the cold, lubed finger sliding into him comes as a shock. His cock throbs. Cas makes him shift, pulls his hips out and wedges a towel in beneath him, all with that one finger still inside Dean. Then his finger moves. It rubs gently over Dean’s prostate, making him shiver with the pleasure. He moans into the pillows as it builds, tries fucking back on Cas’s finger, but Cas stops him. 

Slowly, the pressure increases, and Dean pants, whining, his skin too tight, then he suddenly fists his hands in the cushion below him.

“Stop, stop, I need to pee,” he says, frantic.

“Excellent,” Cas says, and doesn’t move an inch. 

In dismay, Dean feels something dribbling slowly out of his cock, onto the towel, and he keens at the bizarre feeling. Cas’s finger goes from not enough to too much really fast, and he quivers. 

“There we go,” Cas says, withdrawing his finger. “Stand up again.”

Dean stands on shaky legs and turns, confused. 

“I’ve emptied you out,” Cas explains. “There’s no come left in these,” he pats Dean’s balls with small, stinging taps. “Should make you less likely to take matters into your own hands, as it were, but to be sure…”

He holds up two cuffs. “Wrists.”

Still confused, Dean offers his wrists, watching while Cas cuffs him and attaches a chain through his collar so he can’t lower his hands below his chest. The entire thing is bizarre, and when he’s put back into the cage, he’s entirely cooperative. It’s not even night time, but he’s content to watch Cas putter about, resting on the rough blanket in a cage barely large enough for him. He can’t stretch his legs, but curled up on his side, it’s not so bad. 

Cas gives him a sandwich, plain bread with ham and cheese, and attaches a water bottle to the outside, then disappears off to where Dean can hear him humming in the bathroom, the shower running as he eats. When Cas comes back, it’s with the enema bulb in one hand, and a water jug in the other, and Dean tenses at once. 

“What are you doing?” he asks.

Cas shrugs. “I like my property clean. Ass over here, please.”

“No way, man! You’re not sticking that up in me while I’m locked up like chattel!”

“Boy,” Cas warns. “We can do this the easy way, or the hard way, and I’d really like to do it the easy way.”

“No!” Dean says, curling up as far away from Cas as possible. “I’m not doing it! You can’t make me!”

Cas sighs heavily. “Last chance.”

“I can do it myself in the bathroom!” Dean bargains. “Just leave me alone to do it!”

Cas opens the cage and yanks at the chains until Dean crawls out. He gets bodily dragged out of the cabin and onto the lawn, where he tumbles into a patch of grass and pine needles. Cas sits on his thighs, and a slick finger presses against his hole. 

“No!” Dean shouts. “No, don’t!” 

The nozzle presses in, then he’s flooded with lukewarm water. It pulls out, then returns a few minutes later and more water presses into him, then a third time.

Cas bends over him, pressing him into the dirt. “I suggest you start digging a hole to go in, boy.”

That’s when Dean breaks, crying again. Cas lets him up and hands him a child’s sandbox shovel, then marches him by the neck over to the far edge of the property. Dean’s stomach feels uncomfortable, far fuller than when he does this to himself at home, and he’d really, really like to go some time soon. Tears streaming down his face, he goes to his knees a little way off the property, and starts digging. 

“Please don’t do this,” he begs. “I can still go inside.”

“Keep digging,” Cas says. 

Dean digs. Once the hole seems large enough, he turns to Cas again, and now he’s covered in cold sweat from holding it in. 

“Please,” he sobs. “Please.”

“You can go now.”

Squatting awkwardly over the hole, Dean does, because he doesn’t really have a choice. He’s blushing and crying, and Cas keeps looking at him entirely impassively as he shits into a hole like an animal. 

“Done?” Cas confirms.

Dean nods, snivelling. “I think so.”

“Let’s go hose you off.”

Sobbing softly, Dean follows Cas across the yard, his hands and legs still attached to his collar. Cas grabs the hose on the side of the house and turns it on, spraying cold water straight at Dean, who shrieks at the blast. He scrubs as much as he can with his tied hands, then Cas tells him to turn around and bend over, so he does, keening as the cold water hits his hole. Once they’re sure he’s entirely clean, Cas leads him to the porch, then chains him there, dripping. 

“Once you’re dry, we can talk about your punishment, boy.”

The wood beneath Dean’s feet is rough and hard, and he shivers in the evening chill. He can’t believe Cas made him do that, can’t believe he did. Tears spring back into his eyes, and he sits, curling up into himself and cries. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enema: Cas forces an enema on Dean, and then watches as he .. um. Evacuates, said enema. Poop is mentioned. Very briefly. Scat play does NOT happen and WILL NOT happen - this is for humiliation purposes only. Nobody touches said poop. 
> 
> ... I can't believe that's a warning I needed to write. Whatever happened to "some mild daddy kink for luke". Brain, why?  
> (I have no regrets. Nor shame. Bwahaha.)


	21. Chapter 21

The sun has set by the time Cas fetches him inside and Dean is so cold, he’s shivering hard. 

“I’m a fair owner,” Cas says conversationally. “You’ll see that.”

“What are you doing?” Dean struggles as he’s bent over the small kitchen table. “Cas, lemme up!”

“I said we’d talk about your punishment.”

“You don’t need to do this!”

“Oh, but I do,” Cas smiles and strokes his cheek. “You’re mine now, remember? You married me. There can only be one leader in a relationship, and the sooner you accept that you’re mine, the better.”

“You’re fucking insane!” Dean kicks back.

“I’m being real lenient, Dean!” Cas sounds stern. “You better behave!”

His feet get tied to the legs of the table, and Cas unlocks his arms from the collar, only to pull them behind Dean’s back and tie them together there. When Dean tries to stand anyway, he finds his face shoved into the table while Cas ties rope from the collar and somewhere over the side, and then he’s strapped down tight. 

Cas makes a contemplative sound behind him, and then there’s a knotted bandana forced into Dean’s mouth, the bag pulled back over his head. 

“I thought of doing this the other way around,” Cas says, “but then I realised I’ve got all of this nice, clean ass just for me, and it’s not like you need to be part of this.”

Slick fingers press lube inside him and Dean whines, his hole sore. The Cas’s cock presses in, hard and huge, and Dean screams into his gag. He wants to thrash, but he can’t, so instead he shouts curses into his gag. It doesn’t deter Cas in the least. 

“Oh fuck yes,” Cas groans behind him, clutching at his hips. “So fucking tight. Open up, boy. I know your hole was made for this. I’ll break it in good, I swear.”

Cas fucks him with these short, fast thrusts, clearly focused only on his own pleasure, chasing his orgasm as he uses Dean’s body to get there. Cas digs in his short fingernails when he comes, and Dean hiccups on a sob, unable to believe he’s crying again. 

“Such a good fuck hole,” Cas mutters. “This is why you’re to keep it clean at all times. I should have you on a liquid diet really, but I like the way you look. God, your hole is so puffy now.” Fingers prod at it. “Maybe I should make others fuck you so that I can take you when you’re swollen and gaping, just like a cunt. That’d feel so good for my cock.”

Dean draws shaking breaths, the bag over his head making the world seem strange, like he’s not quite part of it. It comes crashing back when Cas pulls then bag off, and suddenly, Dean misses it, misses the chance to hide inside his head. 

“I have a lot of plans, boy, so I’ll go easy on you now,” Cas says, and shows Dean a thin, whippy switch. 

Dean’s eyes widen, and he tries to beg behind the gag, shaking his head. 

Cas’s eyes narrow. “I might have used my fuck hole for its intended purpose, but that doesn’t get you out of your punishment. You’ve been very rude, Dean, and you’ve fought me all day. You’ll get ten to the back of your thighs, and be very grateful it isn’t twenty.”

Dean tries to kick, but his legs are tied down so tight that it doesn’t matter. He fights his restraints, tries shoving up from the table, tries wrenching his hands free. He doesn’t even manage to move an inch. The first strike makes him shriek, shrill and loud, as a thin stripe of white-hot pain flares across the bottom half of his thighs, where the skin is thin and sensitive. He barely has time to catch his breath before the next one whites him out again. 

“You better not spill a single drop of my come,” Cas warns him as Dean heaves gasping sobs.

He blanks out then, the pain coming and going and then it’s finally, finally over. Cas unties the gag, but leaves him crying on the table as he goes and moves the crate to the bedroom. When he reappears, Dean seeks him out and he’s sure he looks terrified. 

“Did that hurt, baby?” Cas asks, a gentle hand in Dean’s hair. 

Dean nods. 

“Did you spill anything?” Cas spreads Dean’s ass cheeks and looks for a long moment. “Well done, boy, not a drop. What a good, tight fuckhole. Let’s give you my last wedding present, hm?”

Dean flinches as something cold prods at his hole. 

“I know you get so empty when I’m not using you,” Cas explains, and the cold hard thing presses into Dean. “So I got you this plug. It’s for long-term use, so you can wear it for a long, long time, and I got you the large one that’s eleven ounces, so you can’t forget you’re wearing it. You’ll have to use those muscles too, which should make you nice and tight for me.”

When the plug slides in, Dean makes a surprised sound because the bottom of it is so much narrower than the head, which now presses large and heavy near his prostate. He clenches around it involuntarily, and whimpers. It’s so heavy, pulling and weighing down his insides, and there’s no way in hell he’ll be able to ever ignore it.

“I really don’t trust you to not take it out, not yet,” Cas says amicably, and cold chain wraps around Dean’s waist. “This is crude, but I believe it’ll work for now.”

There’s some fiddling, cold chains slipping in between Dean’s legs and something tugging at the plug, and then the sound of a lock clicking shut on the small of his back.

“There we go. Let’s see what you think about that.”

When Dean’s released from the table, he stands and looks down to where a chain wraps around his waist, two others padlocked onto it on either side of his navel, framing his cock and disappearing in between his legs. 

“I attached them to the plug,” Cas says, smiling. “You’re not getting that out on your own any time soon. Come on, bedtime.”

Dean follows numbly, gait awkward as the weight of the plug shifts inside him. He lets Cas lead him outside, hold his dick as he pees, and then pads behind Cas into the bedroom. Cas unhook his arms from behind his back, clipping them onto his collar again, chaining his ankles together and mercifully leaving them disconnected from the collar. Cas tugs the bag back over Dean’s head, tucks it in under his collar so he can’t take it off, and it’s almost a mercy, the world going fuzzy around him as he crawls into the cage at the foot of Cas’s bed and lies down on the scratchy blanket. 

There’s sounds of Cas moving around in the room, the bed springs creaking and eventually the snick of the light plunging them into darkness. Dean closes his eyes, unable to fight anything anymore. 

“Good night, pet,” Cas says above him.

Chained, bagged and plugged, Dean sleeps. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know some of you have been worried, but I swear to Chuck that both Dean and Cas know their safewords. Safety measures are in place, even if we (Dean) can't see them. It'll be ok. 
> 
> Now, grab a hold, because this is gonna be one hell of a ride.


	22. Chapter 22

He wakes up during the night, with the bag pressing against his face and the plug rubbing inside him, the collar heavy and hard around his neck. Several times, he nearly panics, but then he hears Cas’s heavy breaths and relaxes, clinging to the familiar sound of them. He syncs his breathing with Cas’s, and drifts off again. 

The last time he wakes, it’s because he really needs to go. He whines, trying to figure out how to wake Cas and not get punished. Cas has never been a morning person, and letting Dean out of the cage to piss is probably not high on his list of priorities (which can essentially be summed up as “coffee”).

He shifts, but the plug pokes his bladder and nope, no, he’s gotta go. 

“Cas,” he tries, voice low. “Cas, please.”

There’s indistinct groaning. 

“Cas,” he says slightly louder. “Please, man, I need to pee.”

“Shut up,” Cas mutters. “You can pee later.”

“I can’t,” Dean says against the cloth of the bag. “I’m going to wet myself.”

Cas groans loudly into his pillow. 

“Please, sir,” Dean tries. “Please.”

“Fine,” Cas says, and there’s rustling. 

The cage door opens and Dean scrambles out as best he can, standing and whimpering as the plug shifts and his thighs throb. Cas pulls off the bag, making Dean blink at the sudden light, then he’s shoved outside and marched over to the corner of the cabin. Bleary-eyed, Cas padlocks his collar to a tether line that Dean had somehow missed. 

“There,” Cas mutters. “Piss away.”

He leaves Dean alone, returning into the cabin, and Dean looks down to where he’s still covered in chains. He closes his eyes, spreads his legs wide since he can’t reach his dick with his hands, and lets go. 

When he’s done, he moves down the line a little, so he doesn’t have to stand in his own filth. Now that he doesn’t urgently need to pee, he’s suddenly aware of how he’s standing naked outside, alone and stuck to a tether, hands awkwardly curled to his chest and chains wrapped around his wrists. The plug shifts inside him as he shifts his weight, and Jesus, that fucker is heavy. Who knew eleven ounces would feel like eight pounds once it’s up your ass? It rubs at him, the handle and chains feeling weird between his ass cheeks. 

He can see straight into the cabin, where Cas is sitting with coffee by the table. Dean also wants coffee. Cas might have eaten a real meal last night, but the plain ham and cheese sandwich hadn’t done much for Dean, and his stomach growls. He’d like to sit, but his thighs feel bruised and the chain to the tether is too short, so he stands there, covered in goosebumps, in the morning sunshine

When Cas comes out again, he doesn’t speak much, bringing a bucket and the enema bulb. He unlocks the chains running through the plug, pulls it out and makes Dean gasp with relief. 

Cas pats his hip. “I know, you’re real empty right now. I’ll fix that. Don’t fight me.”

He fills the bulb with water, and Dean hangs his head in shame as he allows Cas to push the nozzle in, empty the bulb inside him, and repeats. 

“You stand there and hold it for a minute,” Cas says, and walks off again, and Dean whimpers. 

It’s not as much water as yesterday, but it’s still uncomfortable and he’d really like to not soil himself. Thankfully, Cas returns shortly, bringing back the plug. 

“Open,” Cas says and holds it up. “I washed it for you, but we don’t want to lose it and if it’s not in one fuck hole, it goes in the other.”

Reluctantly, Dean opens his mouth and takes in the plug, which smells of clean soap. He looks pleadingly at Cas, who chuckles and rubs Dean’s stomach, making him whimper.

“Alright, pet. Let’s go talk you for a walk.”

They only go to the edge of the property, where Cas again has Dean dig a hole and release the water into it, before trudging up to the cabin and having him bend over to get ice cold water squirted over his hole. Dean grins and bears it, teeth clenched against the plug in his mouth, until Cas makes him release it, pushes it back inside him and locks it in place. 

He wishes for the bag back, but when he comes inside, Cas locks the door and sits him on the floor as he ladles oatmeal into a dog bowl. 

“Hungry?” he asks Dean. 

“Yeah,” Dean nods. 

Cas frowns at him. “Mind your manners, boy. You were so polite this morning.”

“Yes, sir,” Dean says, because his stomach growls. 

Cas sets the bowl aside and comes over, crouching down. “See, that wasn’t so hard, was it? What a good boy. Here, you can have my hand as a reward.”

Dean startles as Cas cups his cock and balls softly, pets them before rubbing his fingers over Dean’s cock. Slowly, achingly gently, he strokes Dean hard, then makes Dean lick his hand before returning it down, making a tight fist for Dean to fuck into. 

“That’s it, pet. What a good pet,” Cas murmurs. “Do you like that? Feels good, hm?”

Dean stares at the head of his cock, disappearing in and out of Cas’s fist, sending pleasure shooting through him. The plug rubs at his prostate when he clenches, with every aborted thrust into Cas’s palm. Cas coaxes him along, until Dean’s gasping, right at the edge of orgasm, right. ther--and of course, that’s when Cas ruins it, pulls his hand back. 

“Look at it,” Cas hisses in his ear, bending Dean’s head down so he stares helplessly at where his cock is dribbling slow pulses of come while he’s still straining towards his orgasm, one he knows he’ll never get. 

“Look at your desperate cock,” Cas says. “It’s crying for it, it’s so needy for attention, for something to fuck into. You were controlled by it, but that’s alright. You’re mine now, baby. Soon, the only thing you’ll be desperate for is me.”

Cas’s thumb digs into his neck. “Thank me for it,” Cas commands. 

“Thank you, sir,” Dean whispers. “Thank you.”

Cas strokes two fingertips along his cock, gathering up the come, then walks over to the dog bowl and flicks the come onto the cooling oatmeal. 

“Here you go, pet,” Cas says as he puts the bowl on the floor. “Seasoned and everything.”

Dean’s stomach growls loudly, and he flushes as he crawls over, lowering himself awkwardly onto his chained hands, his neglected, still hard cock poking at the floor as though orgasm is still an option. Frustrated and shaken, he eats. 

***

Later, Cas attaches a leash to where the chains running between Dean’s legs meet, right behind his balls. Dean stares in dismay at the leash, far from the black leather he’d imagined. No, no, this is basically twine, rainbow coloured and glittery. If there was anyone who missed the part where Dean’s naked and covered in chains, and Cas is in a soft T-shirt and washed out jeans, they’d take one look at the leash and burst out laughing. 

“I think I’ll have you pierced here,” Cas says, pressing against Dean’s taint. “It’d be so fun to chain you to places by the balls, wouldn’t it?”

Dean stares at him. 

Cas slaps him right across the cheek. 

“Wouldn’t. It.”

“Yes! Yes, sir!” Dean spits out, hand to his cheek. 

Apparently, that makes Cas pause, because next moment, Dean’s hands have been cuffed together behind him instead. Cas picks up the leash and yanks it. 

“Let’s go for a walk,” he says. “You’ll need your exercise if you’re going to please me.”

“Out there?” Dean asks. “Cas, please!”

Cas’s eyes narrow and he yanks on the leash, which tugs on the plug inside Dean, who squeaks. 

“I’m walking, and I’m holding the leash. You can pick if you want to walk or get dragged by the balls.”

Walking seems like a great idea suddenly. Dean stumbles after Cas, down a dusty road covered in sand and gravel. It’s rough on his feet and he can’t quite keep up with Cas, the trail running bastard, but he tries. Birds chirp from the pine trees around them, crickets singing loudly. They must walk a good mile. Between Cas’s pace and Dean’s balance being shit with his hands behind his back, his sore thighs and a giant fucking plug in his ass, Dean is panting and sweaty as they stop. 

Cas looks at him, then snaps his fingers to point at the ground in front of him. Awkwardly and slowly, Dean goes to his knees there, looking around to see if there’s any traffic around. There isn’t, but even as Cas undoes the fly of his jeans, he keeps feeling like some farmer is going to come around a corner at anytime.

“Get me hard,” Cas says, and shoves his cock into Dean’s mouth. 

Cas seems content to bury his hands in Dean’s hair, letting Dean do all the work, and Dean bobs up and down, eyes flicking up to see Cas with his head thrown back. He puts everything into that blowjob, sucks Cas with slow pulls, tongue swirling around the tip, licks at the slit and suckles on the sensitive spot beneath the head. He plays with Cas’s foreskin, tongues it until Cas’s cock is hard as diamond in his mouth and Cas is panting above him, his thighs quivering. Then, Dean goes deep and builds a rhythm, slowly increasing speed and suction until he feels Cas’s cock fill that last little bit and Dean groans, because goddamn, he loves blowing Cas. 

Except Cas pulls out, and comes all over Dean’s face and hair, instead of into his mouth, and Dean wants to cry. 

“Holy fuck,” Cas pants. “Your mouth, pet.”

Cas never curses as much as after a really, really good orgasm, but Dean still whines. 

“Oh no,” Cas says lazily as he tucks himself away. “You haven’t earned my come yet. Now everyone can see what a cock hungry little boy you are.”

“Yes, sir,” Dean whispers, voice hoarse, shame tearing at his chest. 

Cas makes a contemplative sound. “I think  _ sir _ is too generic. You’re such a cock hungry boy with such a desperate little dick. I think we’ll go with  _ daddy _ instead.”

Tears prick at Dean’s eyes. “Cas, please, no,” he pleads. “I can’t!”

His answer is Cas’s foot against his rock hard cock and a cold smile. 

“This says otherwise. You’re on your knees in the middle of a road in daylight, covered in come, and you’re so hard. I didn’t force you to blow me like that, you blew me like you love cock, like you can’t get enough of it. So tell me, where’s the lie?”

A sob falls from Dean’s lips before he clamps down on it. “There’s no lie.”

Cas clears his throat. 

“There’s no lie, Daddy,” Dean says, and then he breaks. 

“What’s the truth then?”

“I’m a cock hungry little boy,” Dean sobs. “I love sucking cock, I’m desperate for it and I have such a needy little cock.”

“Does your needy little cock want to hump my leg?”

Dean does. He’s going crazy with all the pent up arousal, but he shakes his head hard. “No, not that! I can’t!”

Cas pinches his ear, and Dean shouts “No, no, Daddy, no!” 

He cries the entire way home, stumbling after Cas with sand and gravel on his knees and drying come on his face. Cas leaves him on a blanket on the porch with only the rainbow coloured glitter leash tethering him to a hook on the wall, and Dean lays down, hands still behind his back and plug inside his ass, and all he wants is his Daddy to come hug him, or put a bag over his head and put him away. 

When Cas returns with the bag and pulls it over his head, Dean thanks him. 

***

After lunch, another plain ham and cheese sandwich that Cas feeds him in small bites while he begs, Cas screws a hook into the ground in the middle of the yard and tethers him there by the plug. He’s left with more freedom than he’s had in the past twenty hours, his hands chained together in front of him and his legs free. 

Dean lies on the grass for a long while, enjoying the sunlight and soft breeze, watching small ants scurry in the grass. He even spots a spider, that runs the other way when he blows at it. 

Life feels peaceful, and he stretches, which is when he notices it. 

The thread. 

Cas has tethered him with a sewing thread. 

The thin, thin string loops from the hook and in between his legs, and he reaches out, amazed, running a finger along it. His eyes flick up to the cabin, where Cas has gone to cook for himself, and then down to the string. 

It breaks under his hand and his heart races. 

Not even conscious of it, he jumps up to his feet and off to the side of the property, where he pauses, looking back at the small cabin in the sunlight, the Impala parked near it. Cas appears in the doorway and Dean can’t breathe.

“Don’t do it!” Cas warns him. 

Dean looks him straight in the eye for a long second.

Then he turns, and runs.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beware: Consensual non-consent is a thing. This chapter has a lot of it.

It takes Cas an hour to find him, trekking along the same road that they’d walked earlier. The plug is rubbing hard inside him and despite Dean trying to pry it out, the chains are in the way. He’s panting with fear and bolts into the underbrush when he catches the sound of Cas’s steps behind him, even and fast. Fucking runners, man.

“Pet!” Cas shouts, not even breathing hard. “I know you’re in there.” 

He looks straight at the fir tree that Dean’s hiding behind. Dean’s so scared he’s trembling. 

“If you come out yourself, I’ll be nice,” Cas says, “but if I have to come fetch you, you’re going to wish you were dead.”

Dean doesn’t move, he can’t. 

“You’re naked, and chained, and we’re sixty miles from the nearest town,” Cas says reasonably. “There’s no way you’ll make it there on your own. Come on out here insead.”

He can’t even breathe.

“One…” Cas shouts. “I’m only giving you until three, boy.”

He tries to move his leg, but it’s frozen in place.

“Two… One more chance, then you’re never seeing daylight again.”

As if suddenly released from a spell, Dean steps out onto the road a dozen feet from where Cas is standing. Cas stares at him and Dean whimpers. Slowly, achingly slowly, he sinks to his knees, stretches his still chained hands out above his head as he lowers his forehead to the ground, silently begging for mercy.

The march back doesn’t take nearly as long, which Dean is both ashamed of and grateful for, his feet sore. Cas keeps a bruising grip on his upper arm the entire way back, his other hand tight on the chain around Dean’s waist. 

When the cabin comes back in sight, Dean starts crying. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he mutters. “God, please, Cas, I’m so sorry. I don’t know why I ran, I didn’t mean to!”

He doesn’t say a word, simply hauls Dean to the tether line, and padlocks a chain to his collar. Cas slams the door shut when he goes inside. He leaves Dean there for a very, very long time. Dean pisses against the tree, then shuffles over close to the house and hangs his head. He feels so guilty, it’s gnawing at him as he waits for Cas’s return. He really didn’t intend to run, it’s just that the thread broke and then he panicked. 

When Cas steps out, he looks tired and Dean feels even worse. 

Cas comes over, grabs Dean by the jaw and forces him to look up. 

“You don’t ever run from me,” Cas says hoarsely. “You’re mine, baby, and I will find you and I will bring you home. I’ll remind you, I married you. I love you.”

Dean shivers at the words. He knows he doesn’t make Cas do anything, but the sweetness in Cas’s voice, combined with the serious look at his eyes makes the guilt in Dean’s chest painful. 

Cas kisses him, cradles Dean to his chest and Dean can’t help it. The tears come anyway. 

“I’m sorry,” he hiccups. 

“I got scared, baby,” Cas says, and shit, his voice is cracking. “What if I couldn’t find you and keep you safe?”

“I’m here!” Dean says. “I’m here and I’m safe and I love you.”

Cas pulls back and looks at him, and now Dean feels even worse, because there are tears in Cas’s eyes too. 

“You realise I have to punish you, don’t you?” Cas says, stroking his cheek. 

Dean whimpers.

“I won’t do it again, Daddy, I won’t!”

“Pet,” Cas warns. “You. Ran. From. Me.”

“Yes, Daddy,” Dean says, grudgingly.

“If you run from me, do you really think you’ll get away from punishment? I was being so nice to you too. I. Trusted. You.” Cas smacks him across the face. “I trusted you, and you broke my trust.”

Dean nods, cheek stinging. 

“Do you deserve to be punished, pet?”

Dean nods. “Yeah. Yes, Daddy.”

“I’m glad you understand. You can stay here and think about how you made me feel.”

Tears drip down Dean’s nose, and he nods again. 

Cas goes back inside, and he’s alone. As alone as he’d have left Cas. The cool breeze doesn’t matter, the indignity of being chained naked to a tether line outside and pissing against a tree… nothing matters. He hurt Cas, he’ll pay for it and that makes sense. He hopes it hurts. 

This time, Cas returns almost at once, carrying the enema bulb and bucket. He brings the hose over too, and when he unlocks the chain, he takes the one aroun Dean’s waist as well before removing the plug. Dean’s sore, and he whimpers pathetically. Then he freezes, keening, because the water Cas is squirting up inside him is ice cold. 

“Maybe I’ve been too nice to you,” Cas says, and strokes Dean’s hip as though he’s a horse. “You hold that for me, pet.”

He stays near Dean, letting him watch and tremble while Cas washes and rinses the plug carefully. Dean doesn’t argue, only opens his mouth when Cas holds it up. 

Cas places the bucket below Dean, then backs off a step. 

“I’m not letting you off that tether,” he says. “You can go in there.”

Dean looks down, then up at Cas and up to where the chain to his collar is making it impossible for him to squant. His face burns when he widens his legs over the bucket and lets go. 

“Do you know why I’m not letting you off that tether?” Cas asks, then answers himself. “Because you ran, and that means the privilege to go yourself has been removed. You can do any of your business out here, in the open, where you’re chained down and anyone can see.”

Suddenly Cas’s hand is around his neck and Cas pressed up close. “Do you like that? Is that it? Do you want everyone to watch you and see you naked and bound, like a pet? Using the lawn?”

Dean can only whimper in fear and humiliation around the plug in his mouth.

“I have been too nice, haven’t I?” Cas studies his eyes. “You want to be used, like a filthy rag. Do you want me to fill you up with water until you bloat? I could get a bag and one of those blow-up nozzles? You’d have no choice but to take however much I’d give you. Maybe I should get a blow-up plug? One for your ass, one for your mouth. Or I could get a replica of my cock to shove in there, plug you up at both ends so you won’t forget who you belong to.”

Cas releases him and picks up the enema bulb, letting Dean watch as he fills it with more icy cold water from the hose. 

“Let’s rinse you out good and proper.”

Dean gasps and pants, keening, as the icy water goes inside him, and Cas refills the bulb, pushing even more cold water into him. It hurts, it makes his stomach ache and he fidgets. 

“You can let that go now,” Cas says an eternity later, and Dean releases it gratefully. 

Cas hoses him off, water cold and awful, then leaves him and takes the bucket with him. Dean is so tired, his legs keep trembling and the plug is enormous and hard in his mouth. It weighs a fucking ton, and he’s not looking forward to having it shoved back inside him.

When Cas comes back, he’s in running gear and Dean frowns in confusion. Cas rubs down his ass with a towel, then squats behind him and slips a finger inside him. 

“Arch that back,” Cas snaps. “I’m doing you a favour right now, pet.” Fingers push more lube inside him and then even more, stretching him perfunctorily. “You’re so lucky I brought a bottle of silicone lube, it won’t dry out so fast.”

Cas pulls out three fingers then stands, stepping around Dean. He takes the plug from Dean’s mouth and undoes all of the chains, leaving Dean with only the collar and manacles around his wrists and ankles.

“For your punishment,” Cas says his voice cold, his eyes steely, “you’re going to run. You’re going to run fast, and I will show you what happens if you ever run from me again. Mark my word, Dean. I will find you. I will bring you back, and it’s going to hurt.”

Terrified, Dean backs a half-step, glances at Cas then at the road. 

“You can have a ten minute head start,” Cas says calmly, looking at his watch. “Go.”

Dean takes one step towards the road and then looks back at Cas, who only grins. 

“Run, boy. Run.”

Dean runs. 

He tears across the yard and onto the road, noting the later afternoon sun on his right. He takes the same path as before, as fast as he can while barefoot. He’s scared out of his mind as he rushes past bushes and trees, hardly even seeing them. What he’s running to, he doesn’t know, but he knows what he’s running _ from _ , and Cas had been very, very serious about this. 

He puts everything he’s got into it, feet pounding the ground. It’s like he’s a rabbit, and behind him is the big bad wolf, and he knows how this story ends, but there’s nothing he can do about it. 

Some time later, he has to slow down, out of breath and exhausted, but he keeps moving forward, keeps trying. Not long after that, there are steps behind him, even and measured. 

“Keep going, boy. It’s like you’re not even trying,” Cas calls, and Dean breaks out into a run again. 

Cas jeers at him, plays with him. Once he even catches up and slaps Dean’s ass before letting Dean get away. Dean’s crying in fear as they come upon a clearing, and when Cas finally, finally tackles him to the grass, it’s a relief. 

“Got you,” Cas snarls in his ear, hand gripping Dean’s neck and pushing him into the ground. “Now let me show you what you’re good for.”

Cas rears back, tugging at his own pants as he sits over Dean’s thighs. Dean flinches from the pain from his bruises, which Cas notices because he grinds back against them. 

“Does that hurt? I swear this will hurt more.”

There’s a very brief squeeze on his neck, Cas’s grip gentling for just a second in a question, and Dean manages the weakest of nods ever, and then he screams, scrabbling against the ground as Cas presses into him, cock big and hard as it splits Dean in two. Dean sobs, insanely grateful for the silicone lube slicking the way, as Cas bottoms out. Cas fucks him savagely, slamming in as hard as he can, grinding his cock into Dean. 

“That’s it, cry,” Cas hisses at him. 

“I’m sorry!” Dean screams. “I’m sorry, Daddy, I’m sorry, I’m sorry! Please stop, please, it hurts.”

“Good,” is the last thing Cas says before pressing Dean’s cheeks apart with both hands so that he can fuck in deeper, thrust harder, rips him apart over and over until his hips stutter and Cas pulls out, coming all over Dean’s ass and lower back. 

“Feel that?” Cas snarls, still jerking himself. “All that come all over you, marking you. Everyone will know you’re mine.”

“Yours, Daddy,” Dean manages between sobs. “Yours.”

Cas breaks a thin, thin switch from a bush, drags Dean back onto his feet, then makes him walk all the way back to the cabin while Cas prods him, switching him from calf to shoulder as Dean stumbles forward, crying so hard he can barely see the road. 

He collapses on the porch, unable to move. Cas has to haul him over to the tether, where he hangs him up by his arms, Dean’s feet barely able to take his weight. He hangs limply as Cas hoses him off again, washes him head to toe with a bar of soap, then dries him off. 

“Ssh, I know baby,” Cas whispers gently in his ear, hugging him close. “I’ve got you.”

“Daddy,” Dean manages. “Daddy, m’empty.”

“I know, pet, I know.” 

Gentle hands fasten the chains around his waist and Dean flinches at the wide push of the plug, then sighs when it’s back in place inside him, heavy and solid and comforting. Cas has to almost carry him inside once all of the chains are back in place, Dean’s hands locked tightly to the collar, his ankles hobbled close together. Cas helps him settle him on a blanket on the floor before he makes them food. This time, he handfeeds Dean from his own plate, and Dean tiredly licks his fingers in gratitude. 

When Cas pulls the bag over his head and kisses him through it, Dean sighs in relief. 

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” he says. 

“I know, I know, pet,” Cas says, stroking his face through the rough material, as gentle and reassuring as he’s been all evening.

“I won’t ever run again.”

“Even if you do, I’ll find you and bring you home.”

Dean nods.

“You’ve been forgiven, pet. I love you, go sleep now.”

Dean crawls blindly into the cage, relieved to be back in chains, back where he belongs. 

“I love you too, Daddy,” he says as he lays down. “Thank you.”

When the padlock for the cage clicks shut, Dean makes a small, content noise, and relaxes into sleep.


	24. Chapter 24

Abso-fucking-lutely  _ everything  _ hurts when he wakes up, and Dean makes a pitiful keening sound when the tries to move. Cas grumbles in the bed, but he doesn’t wake, so Dean stills himself. His ass is on fire, his back feels like Cas striped it of skin with the switch, his feet are beyond sore and his thighs ache. Silently, Dean cries inside his bag. He tries tensing and relaxing his muscles, which helps a little, but not much. The cage creaks.

“Pet?” Cas mutters.

“M’sorry, Daddy, M’sore” Dean says. “I’ll be quiet now.”

Cas hums, but gets out of bed. “Let’s take you outside, stretching will help,” he rasps, and unlocks the cage. 

He doesn’t take Dean’s bag off when he leads Dean outside, which feels both awkward and great. The muffled world inside the bag is soothing. Cas walks him onto the lawn, then let’s go of the back of his neck, and Dean assumes that means he can relieve himself, so he does. 

The hand returns and Dean leans into it, let’s himself be lead back into the house, where Cas makes him lay down on something soft in the living room. Soon, the sounds of breakfast reach him, and when Cas gently and carefully pulls the bag from Dean’s head, Dean only blinks slowly. 

“Breakfast, pet,” Cas says, and sets a bowl of warm oatmeal with brown sugar on by him. 

Dean gets on all fours, and eats. Cas sits at the table and eats his own food, and once Dean is done, he crawls over and lays down near Cas. When Cas moves his foot nearer Dean, he smiles and gratefully kisses the top of it, before curling around it as best as he can. 

Cas takes a long time to drink his coffee, which isn’t anything unusual, and Dean enjoys the silence. A gentle smattering against the roof of the cabin tells him it’s started raining, but it feels like even the weather doesn’t concern him, it’s not part of his world. Cas is his world, and that’s all that matters. 

“Pet,” Cas says a little while later, pushing his breakfast dishes aside by the sound of it. 

Dean hums. 

“Come up here.”

Dean struggles to his feet, then looks at Cas who pats the table top. Ever so gently, Dean lowers his sore body to the table, sitting on the edge. The plug shifts inside him, heavy and firm, and Dean has to move around a little to find a semi-comfortable position. Cas unlocks his his ankles, spreading his legs wide, then moves to sit between them and releases Dean’s wrists as well. He lets his hands fall to his lap, then looks up at Cas.

“Touch yourself,” Cas says softly, dragging Dean’s right hand to his cock. “Make it feel good.”

Hesitantly, Dean runs his fingers along his cock. It’s strange to be able to touch it again. Despite being his own body part, it’s been days since he last touched it. Gently, he seeks out the spots that feel good, arousal building slowly. 

“Good boy,” Cas murmurs, and Dean hardens. “That’s it, make it feel really good. You’re doing so good, pet.”

The arousal builds, until Dean is completely hard.

“Lick your hand,” Cas says, and Dean does, breath hitching as he wraps the slick hand back around his cock. “Carefully now, take your time.”

It builds so slowly, Dean rocking slightly back on the plug, the cuff on his arm clinking against the chains wrapping in behind his balls. Eventually, he starts panting, looking straight into Cas’s warm eyes. 

“Don’t forget your balls,” Cas says, nudging Dean’s other hand. 

Dean cups them, shivers at the feeling, rolling them and gently squeezing them as he continues to stroke. 

“There you go,” Cas says. “Your cock is so hard now, isn’t it? Feeling good?”

“Yeah,” Dean groans. “Feels so good, thank you, Daddy.”

Pleasure sings inside him, the edge of orgasm inching closer, building in the pit of his stomach, at the base of his spine. 

“Look at you rocking on that plug, it must be so nice inside you.”

“So big,” Dean whimpers, stroking faster now. “So big and heavy and hard and Daddy, Daddy, please!”

“Let yourself go now,” Cas says, voice still soft and he pulls Dean’s hands away, stills his hips. Dean trembles and whines, the orgasm so close, so close. He wants it, he needs it, strains towards it even as it fades away, leaving him hard and leaking. 

“What a gorgeous pet I have,” Cas says, slowly refastening Dean’s wrists to his collar. “You did so good.”

He runs a finger along Dean’s throbbing cock, making Dean jerk at the touch, seeking more. 

“I know, I know,” Cas hushes him. “Needy cock wants more. I’ve got you.”

Cas helps him back onto the floor, then leaves him alone as he does dishes. Dean mindlessly thrusts at the air,  gently rocks back on the plug, but the chance to come has gone. It’s still raining, so Cas settles on the sofa and allows Dean to sit on the floor between his legs as he reads, resting his head on Cas’s knee. Dean floats, vaguely wishing he could purr or that he had something in his mouth to suckle at. 

The rain pitter-patters against the windows. 

When he needs to pee again, he tugs at Cas’s pants leg, then makes pleading eyes at the door, because words seem so difficult. 

Cas fetches the rainbow glitter leash, clips it to Dean’s waist chain, then takes him outside. Entirely unselfconsciously, Dean goes on the lawn the way a pet should. He follows Cas back inside, where Cas wryly towels off the rain water from his shoulders. They sit back down on the couch and Dean has a fuzzy idea that he’s supposed to be bored, but how could he be bored when Cas allows him to lay down on the soft couch, head in Cas’s lap? Every once in a while, he kisses and nuzzles into Cas’s palm and Cas will smile down at him. 

“Touch yourself for me,” Cas says some time later, unclipping Dean’s right hand from the collar. 

Dean turns onto his back, flinching at the pain from the switch marks that mar his entire back half, like hundreds and hundreds of papercuts. He teases himself, gentle fingertips until he’s hard, then licks his hand at Cas’s prompting and groans. 

“Hold your hand still,” Cas says, “I want to see you fuck yourself between it and your plug.”

“Yes, Daddy,” Dean says, does. 

The plug really is enormous and so, so heavy, bulbous head sitting against Dean’s prostate and teasing it. He gasps and pants, the orgasm building fast, a torrent rushing towards him. 

“Daddy, Daddy,” he whines pathetically, thrusting into his hand.

“Shh,” Cas strokes his sweaty forehead. “Almost there.”

Dean whimpers, frantic. 

“And stop,” Cas says, draws his hand away. 

“Please, please,” Dean keens, trying to thrust into the air. “Please.”

Cas only locks his hand to his collar. 

“That’s a good pet. You really want to come, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Dean sobs, even though his eyes are dry. “It hurts.”

Cas pinches him in warning. “Don’t be so dramatic. I know you’ve had a ruined orgasm and a prostate milking, it’s not like it’s been a long time since we emptied those balls out.”

Dean hiccups. “I’m sorry, Daddy.”

“Mmm,” Cas hums. “Such a needy, greedy little pet.” He flicks his finger against Dean’s cock, hard, and Dean whimpers. “Do you want to hump my leg, pet?”

Dean does. He really, really does. His balls ache and it feels like it’s been ages since his last real orgasm, and he wants to come, needs to come. Humping Cas’s leg though? Lowering himself to the floor and showing Cas how desperate and needy he is, while Cas watches him?

“No, Daddy,” he says, cheeks burning even as his cock throbs. 

“Alright then, but don’t tell me I didn’t give you a chance.”

Cas shoos him off the couch and goes to make lunch, giving Dean rice, beans and corn in a bowl, which Dean eats with such gratitude that his eyes water.  

It’s a slow day after that. Cas tethers him outside for some time after lunch, the rain drizzling down around him as he shivers. They go through the enema-and-bucket routine, but Cas brings warm water both for the bulb and for washing him after. Even as Dean shivers in the cool, early summer rain, his mind stays peaceful and soft. 

When Cas brings him back inside, he’s lit a fire in the small fireplace and places Dean’s blanket near it, allowing him to dry there as he dozes.

“Come over here,” Cas says later, and pets his lap. 

Dean crawls over, then climbs into Cas’s lap, his back against Cas’s chest. A large, warm hand cradles his balls absently, as Cas continues to read. He plays with Dean, as though Dean’s balls are meditation balls and Cas simply needed something to fiddle with, rolling them in his hand and petting them, occasionally bouncing them and making Dean twitch. 

Of course his cock takes notice too. 

It perks right up, then hardens as it’s casually ignored. Dean tries rocking up a little, but Cas shushes him and keeps playing, turning pages on his Kindle at the same time. 

The next time he rocks, it’s not even conscious, but suddenly there’s a sharp pinch to his thigh. 

“Sit still,” Cas says. “I don’t care about your cock, I just want to keep my hand busy.”

It starts out as good, pleasure and arousal as gentle as the warmth from the flickering fireplace, but then it turns, growing until it’s an undeniable, painful roar. Dean’s sweating slightly, trembling with the effort to stay still, drawing slow, measured breaths as he does is best to ignore his cock. 

Eventually, Cas sighs in frustration. “You’re no good to me like this,” he says, and gives Dean’s cock three stinging slaps. 

Dean whimpers and his legs try to close, but Cas’s knees are in the way. 

“Go stand over by the corner there,” Cas points towards the door. 

Shakily, Dean makes his way over there, but as he’s about to put his nose in the corner, Cas stops him. 

“No, turn this way,” he says. “I want to be able to see when your greedy cock has learned it’s lesson.”

Dean looks down to where his cock is entirely unconcerned, standing proud between the two chains running down from his waist. A drop of precum pearls at the tip, as though there’s a chance of Dean getting to come. 

The corner is cool and drafty, but it takes a long while before his hardon softens. The shame curling in Dean’s chest probably doesn’t help. 

“Finally,” Cas grumbles when he’s softened, that one drop slowly drooling to the ground. “Come over here.”

Dean does, and Cas touches his cock with a fingertip, catching the drop and smearing it over Dean’s lips. 

“Now, get back to it.”

Dean settles again. Cas’s hand returns, and then Dean is ignored, apart from his balls.

He whimpers to himself when his cock rises again. He doesn’t want it! Doesn’t want to get hard, doesn’t want to disappoint Cas. Doesn’t want the maddening, frustrating arousal that courses through him and forces his hips to move. 

“Pet,” Cas warns him. 

“I’m sorry!” Dean says. ”Please help me, Daddy. I can’t control it.”

Cas looks at him from the corner of his eye. “You can’t control your cock, pet?”

Dean shakes his head, miserable. “I can’t, it keeps wanting to come and my balls ache, they hurt, Daddy.”

“Do they now,” Cas says, and makes Dean stand up. 

Dean stands awkwardly between Cas’s knees, his desperate cock bobbing in Cas’s face.

Cas blows at it. 

It throbs, visibly.

Cas laughs and Dean burns with shame. 

“It’s trying so hard,” Cas says. “Look at that desperation.”

He blows at it again, and it throbs once more, making Cas chuckle and Dean whimper.

“It’s so greedy, Daddy,” he tells Cas. 

Cas drags a finger up over Dean’s cock and Dean’s knees nearly buckle from the sudden pleasure, amplified by the denial and repeated erections. Cas’s finger pausing and rubbing at the slit makes him shake, when that finger makes circles below the tip of his cock Dean breaks. 

“Daddy, Daddy, please, please,” he begs, and he doesn’t know what he’s begging for.

Cas slaps his cock and Dean chokes. 

He rains down slarp slaps and smacks, pausing to bounce Dean’s cock from one palm to the other and Dean pants and shakes. 

“Daddy, stop, please, please,” and now he’s terrified. “It’s gonna come, please stop.”

Cas stops, the he looks up and sees the tears in Dean’s eyes as Dean tries to hold back, his cock throbbing and jerking uselessly, desperately. 

He gets one last stinging slap to the balls, before Cas shoos him out of the way and gets up. Dean stays put, heaving in breaths as he tries not to cry, tries not to come. His balls  _ hurt _ . 

He’s an absolute mess when Cas comes back and gives him a small bowl of ice and water. 

“Put it in here,” Cas says, moving the small end table closer. “You can stand here and ice it until I tell you to stop.”

Dean squats down slightly, shaking, and plunges his cock into it. 

The cold is jarring. It burns, and at first it almost feels good, but then he whimpers as the chill penetrates and his testicles want to flee back into his body. 

Cas smiles. “Chained and pitiful, aren’t you? Does it feel good pet? You’re standing there, all naked, squatting to ice your dick, just because I told you to.”

Tears well, and Dean nods, still shivering. 

“Are you truly housebroken now?”

“Yes, Daddy,” Dean says.

“What a good pet. Does it hurt?”

“It’s so cold!” Dean whimpers. 

“Count down from a hundred. Slowly.”

Dean does, stuttering on some words as the ice cubes bounce against the tip of his cock. 

When he reaches zero, Cas allows him to stand again. His thighs ache. 

“How about you kneel over there,” Cas suggests, and points at his blanket. 

Dean does, dejected, but at least his cock is small and soft again. 

“Touch yourself,” Cas says, and Dean’s head snaps up. 

“Go on.”

Dean looks at where his hands are chained, barely able to reach his navel, much less his cock. Cas laughs. 

“I forgot,” he confesses, and comes over to release Dean. “There you are, now get that cock of yours hard.”

His cock is small and cold in his hand, still damp from the icy water. Confused, Dean touches himself, coaxing life into a cock that was so sensitive just a few minutes ago, but now is nearly numb. It takes forever, but when he warms up and gets hard, it explodes in sensitivity, and he keens, ripping his hand away and clamping it on his thigh.

“That close?” Cas says and Dean nods. 

“Do you still want to come, pet?” 

After a long moment, Dean nods, and tears run down his face from shame. 

“Such a needy cock,” Cas tsks. “Come over here then, you may hump my leg.”

Dean hesitates, but then, slowly, he shifts onto his hands and knees, and crawls over to Cas. Hanging his head, he waits for instructions. 

“Closer. There. Spread your legs,” Cas says gently. “Oh my, it’s still so desperate. Hands behind your back now, pet.”

As Dean puts his hands behind his back, Cas’s leg slides in between his legs, providing gentle pressure against his cock. 

“There. Keep that ass on your heels. Good. Whenever you’re ready.”

Slowly, with starts and stops, Dean finds a figure eight motion that allows him to hump up at Cas’s leg, and then down at the plug. It feels amazing, but he’s so ashamed. Middle of broad daylight, and he’s humping another man’s leg. 

“Oh, look at that pet fuck,” Cas says above him. “So desperate. So greedy. Can’t stop can you?”

Which is true, because now that Dean’s gained momentum and his cock is dragging back and forth over Cas’s leg, he finds he can’t stop. The plug is so heavy, so hard inside him, pressing against his tender prostate, and he sobs with the pleasure. His movements are so limited by Cas’s demands, that he’s soon panting, straining towards an orgasm that seems miles away. 

“Frustrated?” Cas asks. 

Dean whines. 

“Well, I’m sorry. Here, I’m being nice and offering you an orgasm, and you’re ungrateful.”

“No no, I’m not,” Dean sobs. “I’m so grateful, thank you, Daddy, thank you.”

The denim of Cas’s jeans chafes is cock, which now feels like it’s burning, as hot as it was cold only minutes before. He ruts desperately now, throwing his head back as fire starts inside him. 

“Daddy--can I--can I--,” he stutters, tensing.

“Go ahead, pet.”

Dean comes violently. It shudders through his entire body, like lightning, obliterating anything and everything in is path. It goes on forever, and when he comes to, there are fresh tears on his face, and he’s still wrecked by aftershocks that leave him gasping. 

“Come here,” Cas says, voice rough. 

Dean shuffles forward, heedless of the mess on his stomach and Cas’s leg. Cas draws him in between his legs, presses Dean’s face against his crotch where his cock is thick and hard, and rubs his face there. 

“That’s it,” Cas says. “This is where you belong. You’re all mine now.” One hand on Dean’s neck, one opening his flies and pulling out his cock, he feeds it to Dean inch by inch. 

Dean groans around it, mouth watering at the musk and feel of it. Cas presses him down until the fat head pops into his throat and then rolls his hips, fucking him. He can only do his best to provide suction, press his tongue against the underside, and mind his teeth. 

It doesn’t take long before Cas too is tensing, gasping for breath as he pants, “Keep your mouth open,” and Dean does, opening it, letting Cas come on his tongue. Cas wipes his cock off against Dean’s lips with a dazed look, then slides his fingers into Dean’s mouth, playing with the come pooled there. Dean fights not to gag as the fingers push far back, and Cas pulls out, tells him to swallow, then gives him his fingers after. Dean laps at them. He uses is tongue as gently as he possibly can, slick and wet and soft, to clean off the rest from Cas’s cock in an act of pure worship. 

Cas pulls him up on the couch, manhandles him until Dean’s head is on his thigh, then puts two fingers in his mouth and Dean suckles softly, mostly allowing them space on his tongue. 

“Such a wonderful pet,” Cas murmurs and Dean nuzzles him, used and sated. 


	25. Chapter 25

Cas allows him outside to pee, on his own. Dean walks unsteadily to the middle of the little lawn, watching Cas who’s casually on the porch. When he gets back, Cas kisses his forehead and tells him he’s such a good pet, and Dean preens. 

Even stranger, that evening Cas fills him up with water, washes his plug and puts it in Dean’s mouth, and then hands him the small plastic shovel, before opening the door. Wary and unwilling to leave Cas for too long, Dean trudges over to the line of the property and does his business, then comes back and uses the hose himself as best he can. Cas simply pats him dry with a towel, puts his plug back and takes him to the bedroom. 

There, Cas moves the blanket from the crate and to the floor on his side of the bed, chaining Dean to the bed frame. He even gives Dean another blanket and a thin pillow, and Dean stares at him in wonder. 

“Good pets get rewarded,” Cas murmurs, then pulls the bag over Dean’s head and kisses him through it. 

Dean settles easily, and sleep comes fast and heavy. 

***

The following day, Cas uses him over the kitchen table after breakfast, and Dean lets it happen. He’s aware that he’s crying softly from the pain of Cas pinching his nipples, but he doesn’t resist and doesn’t argue. His head is fuzzy, as though he’s too busy being amazed that someone like Cas would actually take the time to train him and own him to really pay attention to how much he’s hurting. 

Cas keeps allowing him to go out to pee on his own, and they take a long walk with Dean’s arms and legs free, only the rainbow glitter leash hanging softly from his collar. Dean’s even allowed a pair of worn flipflops. When Cas stops and orders him to his knees, Dean goes, then stares up at Cas in adoration as Cas pisses over his chest and cock. Back at the cabin, Cas only tosses the edge of the leash over the tether line before fetching water and soap to wash him off with. 

Dean stays. 

They eat lunch, and Cas handfeeds him a whole burger, which makes Dean feel special and appreciated. Then, he’s bagged and stored in the cage for a long time, but that’s okay too. If he’s not needed, he can be stored away like any other thing Cas owns. 

It’s after that, that things get a bit strange. 

Cas fills him up with the enema bulb, the same way he’s done for days now, but he leads Dean into a very small bathroom where he allows Dean to release into the toilet. The room is peachy pink and flowery curtains cover a small window, and it feels awkward enough that Dean starts getting anxious, but Cas is right there, shushing him gently and allowing Dean to hide his face in Cas’s stomach. He gets washed up in the tub, as well, and then Cas settles him on the couch in the living room. 

Confused, Dean stays where his owner put him. 

“It’s alright, baby,” Cas says when he comes back with a mug of coffee. “It’s just time to bring you back up. I’ve got you.”

Dean struggles to grasp that, because he knows what that means, knows what’s going to happen, but it clashes so horribly with where he is, so he whines. Cas lets him sip a mouthful of his coffee, then pulls Dean down so his head is in his owner’s lap. 

“I got you,” Cas murmurs. “Take your time.”

“I don’t want to stop being yours, Daddy,” Dean blurts, and tears well up in his eyes. 

“You won’t. You’re always going to be my boy, my pet,” Cas says. “We’re married, remember?  _ Til death do us part _ and everything. I’m not releasing you. I’m only going to bring you back up so I can enjoy other things with you, hurt you in other ways.”

“Promise?” Dean’s voice is small, his breath hitches. 

“I promise. You’re such a good pet, I’m not ever letting you go. I’ll take you down, and up, as I please, and I want you up now.”

“Okay,” Dean says, and lets the tears fall as he tries to swim upwards. 

Cas brings him into the bed that night, chains him to the headboard and manhandles Dean until he’s almost laying on top of him. It’s weird. Logically, Dean knows they have another three nights at the cabin before going back to the real world, but the real world seems so distant, and he’s so content here. 

When he wakes up in the morning, he feels frail, but more like a person. Cas doesn’t tether him, and removes the ankle cuffs, but when he goes to remove the plug, Dean refuses. 

“Daddy, please let me keep it, I don’t want to be empty,” he begs. 

Cas stares at him for a moment before smiling. “Alright, but I’m taking the chains off.”

Slowly, achingly slowly, Dean returns to himself. That evening, when Cas makes them pasta, Dean sits at the small kitchen table and tells Cas that his sauce needs more oregano, and Cas beams at him. 

Of course, Cas doesn’t particularly resist when Dean climbs on top of him that night, sinks down on his cock and rocks, gentle and soft, panting against Cas’s lips, until he comes all over Cas’s stomach. Cas only kisses him, deep and slow, and then pinches Dean’s sore nipples until Dean keens and Cas comes. 

It’s pretty perfect.

 

 

 

(He slides the plug back in when Cas has fallen asleep.)


	26. Epilogue

“Ow, fuck,” Dean says as he sits down on the driver’s seat in the Impala. 

Cas watches him shift uncomfortably for a minute, grinning. 

“You know, you don’t have to drive home with a steel plug in your ass,” he says. 

Dean glares at him. “Fuck you.”

“It’s an eight hour drive,” Cas says, and nope, he can’t stop the stupid grin. 

He doesn’t want to either. 

Dean huffs, but he starts the car and ignores Cas. 

Cas laughs to himself, watching the cabin disappear as they back out, turn and head off. Dean sits stiffly until they’re back on a paved road, when he groans and relaxes back into the seat. 

“Not a word,” he mutters. 

Cas says nothing, only watches Dean as he drives. There are days when Cas can’t believe he got so lucky, and this is definitely one of them. The morning sunlight slants in through the window and seems to caress Dean’s cheekbones, cling to his eyelashes, make his hair shine as though--

“Are you waxing poetic about me again?” Dean asks.

“No.” Cas tears his eyes away.

“You were!” 

“Was not.”

“Were too.”

“No.”

They share a look and break out in giggles, something Cas can safely say he’s never done with a lover before. Then again, he didn’t marry any of the others, which is good, because he bought a house with Dean and married Dean and wrote his own vows and made Sam cry, and it was all worth it. 

“I love you,” he says.

“Love you too, buddy,” Dean smiles.

“Are we stopping for coffee soon?”

“Yeah, first stop I can find.”

“Are you seriously going to drive all the way home with that plug in?” 

Dean’s ability to withstand pain, even as he never subspaces or gets aroused by it, has been astonishing to Cas from the start. The things Dean can come up with, the ways he begs Cas to hurt him and use him, are unbelievable and far beyond anything Cas could think of. It really did take therapy to teach him that the best option he has is to not second guess what Dean tells him, and it's made a world of difference.

“... no,” Dean mutters grudgingly, shifting in his seat. “The handle’s against the seat, I can feel every damn vibration and bump in the road.”

“Why did you even put it in?”

Dean blushes, and he always blushes so prettily, as though the embarrassment and shame are entirely fresh, no matter how many times they’ve spoken about it before. Cas might not have had much of a humiliation kink before Dean, but he’s sure been Pavlov’ed into one now. 

“Don’wanna be empty,” Dean admits, almost pouting.

Cas reaches into his pocket, because he thought this might happen. Dean’s got incredible oral and anal fixations, and he always seems restless after a prolonged scene, so it seems logical that he would be after what has been the longest and hardest scene they’ve ever done. Though they’ve spent two days at the cabin, getting each other back together, Dean’s still slightly frail. 

“You realise they come in different sizes,” Cas says casually. 

“What?”

“The eleven ounce one is the heaviest,” Cas continutes. “But this one’s only five ounces.”

He opens his hand and watches Dean’s eyes slide over, then back at the road, then back at him again. 

“Seriously?” Dean squeaks. 

“I wanted to spoil you,” Cas shrugs.

“You put eleven ounces of steel up my ass and you could have only used five?” Dean’s tone is outraged, but Cas knows better. 

“I wanted to start you with the eleven ounces,” he says reasonably, “and save the biggest one for our anniversary.”

Dean swallows, still glancing between the plug on Cas’s palm and the road. 

“What’s the biggest one?” he asks, hoarse. 

“One-point-three pounds,” Cas says. 

Dean makes a strangled noise, and his cheeks flush a dark, dark red. 

Cas holds the plug up to his mouth. “Why don’t you keep this safe until we’ve found coffee?”

Dean takes it, because he does things like that, and he doesn’t stop blushing until after they’ve found coffee and he’s gone to the bathroom to change plugs, dropping the big one in Cas’s lap with a muttered  _ you suck _ . 

Cas laughs. 

Coffee in hand, they drive on. Cas is pleased they chose to come home on a Saturday, giving them time to unpack and find their bearings before going back to work. 

They’re barely three hours from home, when Dean opens his mouth, then closes it. Then opens it again. 

“Cas,” he says. “How do you feel about piercing my nipples?”

Cas blinks. “You hate needles.”

Dean flushes again. “I know.”

There’s a few minutes of silence.

“What are you thinking?” Cas asks, eyes narrowed. 

“Um. So. What if you took a course or someone taught you to pierce? And uh, you did that. To me. At home.” Dean draws a deep breath. “I bet that would be really scary and hurt a lot, and if they’re pierced, you could, uh, hang things from them. Once they heal.”

“Or hang you from them,” Cas says and Dean whimpers. 

“Yeah, or that,” he manages. 

Cas keeps looking at him as Dean stutters through his thoughts, because this is his favourite part of Dean. The Dean that confesses his deepest, darkest fears; the Dean that continually makes himself vulnerable and allows Cas to really see him. The Dean that cries easily and openly during their scenes, allows Cas to see every emotion on his face. The Dean that seats himself on the floor between Cas’s knees once they come home, naked and trusting, seeking comfort as he leans his head on Cas’s knee. 

Castiel loves him so very, very much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And thus, dear friends, we've come to the end. Our kinky-af-husbands are driving home, safe and sound, and will continue to screw in all manner of perverted ways. I hope you've enjoyed this ride, because I can tell you that from here, it's been one hell of a ride for sure. I never expected to write nearly 50 000 words in 18 days, but I did, and here it is. 
> 
> If you're wondering, the remote controlled prostate massager Cas tortured Dean with is the Nexus Revo Slim. The eleven ounce plug is the Njoy Pure Plug in Large, where as the small one is indeed "only" five ounces -- and yes, there's an XL one that's 1.3 lbs.
> 
> Will there be a sequel or timestamps? I don't know. I have some other projects that are ongoing, that I hope to complete before posting them. While posting this as I went has been a whole lot of fun, I don't think I could keep this up forever. 
> 
> Thank you for your amazing comments. While I haven't responded to all of you, I've read every single one and they've been as amazing as you are. To Luke and Darmys, who inadvertently started this whole thing, and to Dusky, Ada, Dea, LtleFlrt, Nadia and Morrigan who cheered it on: May all your kinky dreams come true.
> 
> Until next time  
> /A.


End file.
